If Dogs could send letters to God

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Dear God,

When we get to heaven can we sit on your couch? Or is it the same old story?

•••

Dear God,

Why are there cars named after the jaguar, the cougar, the mustang, the colt, the stingray and the rabbit, but not ONE named for a dog? How often do you see a cougar riding around? We dogs love a nice ride! Would it be so hard to rename the Chrysler Eagle the Chrysler Beagle?

•••

Dear God,

If we come back as humans is that good or bad?

•••

Dear God,

More meatballs, less spaghetti, please.

•••

Dear God,

Are there mailmen in Heaven? If there are, will I have to apologize?

•••

Dear God,

We dogs can understand human verbal instructions, hand signals, whistles, horns, clickers, beepers, scent ID’s, electromagnetic energy fields, and Frisbee flight paths. What do humans understand?

•••

Dear God,

May I have my testicles back?

•••

Dear God,

These are just some of the things I must remember (in order to keep my present living arrangements):

The garbage collector is not stealing our stuff.

I do not need to suddenly stand straight up when I’m lying under the coffee table.

I will not roll my toys behind the fridge, behind the sofa or under the bed.

I will not lick the baby’s spoon, no matter how tempting it is to do so.

I must shake the rainwater out of my fur before entering the house.

I will not eat the cats’ food before they eat it or after they throw it up.

I will stop trying to find the few remaining pieces of clean carpet in the house when I am about to get sick.

I will not throw up in the car.

I will not roll on dead seagulls, fish, crabs, etc., just because I like the way they smell.

I will not munch on “leftovers” in the kitty litter box; although they are tasty, they are not food.

I will not eat any more Kleenex, napkins or socks and then redeposit them in the backyard after processing.

The diaper pail is not a cookie jar.

I will not chew my humans’ toothbrushes and not tell them.

I will not chew crayons or pens, especially not the red ones, or my people will think I am hemorrhaging.

When in the car, I will not insist on having the window rolled down when it’s raining outside.

We do not have a doorbell. I will not bark each time I hear one on television.

I will not steal my mom’s underwear and dance all over the back yard with it.

The sofa is not a face towel; neither are mom and dad’s laps.

My head does not belong in the refrigerator.

I will not bite the officer’s hand when he reaches in for Mom’s driver’s license and registration.

I will not play tug of war with dad’s underwear when he’s on the toilet.

I will not roll around in the dirt right after getting a bath.

Sticking my nose into someone’s crotch is not an acceptable way of saying hello.

I will not come in from outside and immediately drag my butt across the carpet.

The toilet bowl is not a never-ending water supply and, just because the water is blue, doesn’t mean it’s cleaner.

I will not sit in the middle of the living room and lick my crotch when company is over.

I will remember that suddenly turning around and smelling my rear end can quickly clear a room.

The cat is not a squeaky toy so when I play with him and he makes that noise, it’s usually not a good thing.

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