Dear Spike,

I'm no wuss. If I'd had a problem with the playbiting, the black eyes and the odd body-slam I would have picked some other dog. For the love of Dog, though, can you watch the bad knee? I want to play football with you again sometime in this life.

Love,

Your Bitch.

Dear Squish,

I'm sorry about the ear drops, I truly am. But you're still going to have to suck it up and deal. Even the cats can't hide themselves in this flat;* what makes you think a 62lb pointer can? Also, growling at me? Not. Cool.

Love,

Liz: Field Medic and Holder of the Sausage


Dear Girl Parts,

What the fuck? Two weeks =/= 28 days. Go to hell. Take your bloat and your fucking cramps with you, and check the fucking calendar on your way down. KTHXBAI. No love at ALL.




*Except Saffron. Saffron was special.
.

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