An Open Letter To My Dog

Dear Ace,

Ever since I was a young child and I saw your breed, the Pembroke Welsh Corgi, bounding around with Her Majesty The Queen, I knew I had to have one. Those stumpy legs. Ears of a fox. Goofy, yet royal grin. I never imagined one day I’d be lucky enough to have you. But the heart wants what it wants and I was determined to make it happen.

We waited until we had a nice big yard for you and we saved our pennies. So, so many pennies. We researched breeders for weeks and found the perfect one. She met our family. We visited her farm. We carefully discussed the temperaments of male vs. female corgis, our needs, the dog’s needs, the importance of understanding diet and exercise for our new pup. We even talked about coat color and snout length. We waited those months for you to be born and handed over those hard earned pennies. A goddamn lot of pennies. Like a whole fucking lot. 

And when it was time, when you were ready to leave your mama, when you were the size of a an overgrown potato, we brought you home. Our dog. Our perfect dog. Our purebred dog, possibly descended from royalty. Our Ace.


Royal AF

And you were perfect. Perfect weight. Perfect eyes. Perfect bloodwork. Healthy ears. Alert. Sharp. Loving. Fully vaccinated. From your fuzzy freckled belly to your floppy ears that seemed to be made from velvet. You were the epitome of purebred canine perfection.

For a few months, that is. And then you grew up and became an asshole.

Now you may think I’m upset that you’re an asshole, but I’m really not. In fact, I’m quite in awe of your moxie. It’s as if you said to yourself, I don’t give a fuck if I’m possibly descended from royalty and am a goddamn expensive purebred that this lady has dreamed of owning her entire life. I’m gonna fuck shit up and not even apologize for it. I’m going to bash her hopes and dreams every damn day. Just because I can, motherfucker. 

That takes balls, Ace. Balls that you still have because you somehow managed to get out of the surgery we set up to have them removed. I don’t know how you got those liver enzymes up so high. Could have been all the shit you eat, but we’ll never know. Dog shit, rabbit shit, your own shit. Hell, if I took a dump in the backyard you’d gobble that up, wouldn’t you?

Or the dirt or the rocks or the leaves or all the other random assorted stuff lying around that you gobble up. Like the blinds. Why do you eat the blinds? Can you not, please? You eat everything except the ridiculously expensive dog food we have to get for you since your liver enzymes got so high because you eat rabbit shit instead of dog food.

You’re SUCH an asshole.

But, the thing is, I kinda like you like that. I know it seems ridiculous that I spent so much fucking money on you, such a stupid amount of money, you have zero respect for me or anyone else and I still think you’re the bee’s knees. I mean, you bit the heat guy the other day, dude. What is wrong with you? You’re not supposed to bite the heat guy. 

But, anyhoo, back to the part about liking that you’re both an asshole and a general disappointment to your breed.

See, I appreciate that you growl at butterflies and run across the yard, apoplectic and foaming at the mouth, when planes fly overhead. The insanity is refreshing.

I love watching our neighbors effortlessly walk their dogs while you jerk me down the sidewalk trying to chase children on bicycles. It keeps my glutes firm.

I’m totally cool that your ears are so gargantuan they will never stand up and I will face a lifetime of people asking me if you’re a really fat dachshund.

Ears down 2

“You’d better be cool with my ears being flat or I’ll shit in your shoe.” – Ace

I love the noxious emissions that come from your heart shaped behind. I’m enamored by the tufts of fur you leave EV. ER. REEEEEEE. FUCKING. WHERE. The way you bite my pant legs as I walk past you makes my heart flutter. No, it actually may be a serious heart issue because you stress me the hell out when you do that. You know how many pants of mine you’ve ruined? But really, I love you. I do. I love you just as you are and I tell you so every morning during our daily chats.

I tell you what a good, sweet boy you are. Such a handsome chap. Tell you I secretly love how floppy your ears are. I let you know I’ll be patient with you, even though you eat the blinds, because you’re still a pup. You’re still learning. I thank you for being such a great snuggle buddy and forgive you when you nip at my hands to tell me to pet you more. I remind you that the other dog in the window is just your own reflection. And give you extra pats on the head to let you know everything’s going to be ok. Then I kiss your nose and we start the day.

See, I love telling you how much I love you even though you’re a complete asshole because I love you and I should. By doing so it also reminds me to love myself when I’m less than perfect. When I nip at the people who care. When I leave my mess everywhere and eat all the wrong things. When I look in the mirror and see a leg that doesn’t look like it was supposed to. When I feel like a mess I’m reminded that I’m really not so bad because you’re a mess too and you’re also pretty great.

Thank you, Ace. Thank you for being nothing like I thought you would be. Thank you for letting me know less than perfect is perfect in its own way. Thank you for reminding me to be patient with you and with me. Thank you for giving me love and letting me love you. Thank you for reminding me that everything’s going to be ok. I love you. I really, really do.


Your Human Ma

P.S. Can you please stop eating the blinds? Seriously. Stop eating the blinds.