An Open Letter to My Dog, Maddie

Dear Maddie,

We have been together for what... 5 years now? I still remember picking you up and saving you from your 10 crazy brothers and sisters when you were 6 weeks old (thanks for not peeing on me on the way home, by the way. That showed a lot of class). Well, I think it's time we sat down and had a little chat.

I admit that there were times that I wasn't the best Mom in the world. So maybe when you were a puppy I messed with you a little bit. Took away your toys, messed with your ears, put my hands in your mouth, pulled your tail. And ok, maybe I tied your back legs together with your collar a couple times and made you hop around like a bunny for a few seconds. But I told you it was because I needed you to get used to the unpredictable since you were going to be around kids and babies. And you have to admit that nothing the little nieces and nephews do to you surprises you now, does it?

Ok, so maybe I also left you to spend 5 months with grandma and grandpa when you were young because I had to go out of the country. In that time you were horribly abused, I'm sure. Made to eat leftover ice cream and popcorn. Forced to go on long walks, and snuggle on the couch. For that, I am sorry. I will try not to do it again. I don't think either of us wants to go through the running and diet that was required to get you to lose the 15 pounds you put on in that time anyway.

Overall, however, I think we've developed a pretty good relationship. You put up with my long hours, I put up with your coffee ground addiction and weekly trash binge. You put up with me sitting on the trainer, I deal with your temper tantrums. You let me sleep in, as long as you can jump in my bed at 7am. Even though airplane tickets are cheaper than driving these days, I always drive to grandma and grandpa's so that you can join me and hang out with your Milwaukee friends (Murphy, Ellie, Bailey, and Zoe). I even drive the whole way with one hand so that you have a human "arm rest" to lay your head on. And I also let you hang your head out the window at 75 miles per hour because I know how much you love it.

You always get fed and walked twice a day. We go to the park regularly. I offer to take you on runs with me. Once a year, I take you to your favorite place, the vet, where everyone gushes over how sweet you are. So I'm good to you, no?

In response you've been a pretty good girl. Haven't had an accident in the house since you were 8 weeks old, you don't bite, you play well with the kids in the neighborhood, come when you're called, yada yada.

But Maddie-Bear, there is just one thing that has to stop

It's about the underwear. I know that you enjoy it, but you have to stop eating the crotch out of my panties. How many have you ruined now? 50, 75, 100? Do you realize the financial implications of your habit? And it's not like they are just sitting out (well, ok- sometimes they are). You actually knock open the door with your kung-fu doggie kick and ravage my hamper. Right when I think you're over your addiction and I stop the daily routine of slamming and reslamming my door to get it to latch right, it happens again. And seriously, how do you know which ones are my favorites? Can't you just take the granny panties for a change?

Really, if you can just stop this one little behavior, we will be totally cool. But now with med-school starting, I'm just going to be too busy to be running to the mall to buy replacement undies. So please, have some mercy. Go in roommate Matt's room instead.