Hey Buddy,
I'm out of treats. It would be swell if you could find some time to stop and get me some more before you come home from work. If you come home without them, I'll take it to mean that you do not love me anymore or that you are too consumed by your life and bloated importance of your work to think about the single being in your life who gives you immense, unbounded pleasure ninety percent of the time.
I work very hard myself. In fact, I'm out of treats because I worked my behind off all morning trying to figure out what that girl wanted me to do. She was saying one thing over and over and her hands were doing ten other things. Am I supposd to be able to decode that? I noticed that you have a hard time yourself, trying to figure out what you're supposed to do or what the heck she wants you to do so I do not think this is just me being thick-headed here. But my main point is that I worked very hard for those treats and if anyone appreciates that, appreciates how exhausted I am after putting my head up and down on that cold tile floor all morning and doing down paws first for a few scraps of stale jerky, I thought it'd be you.
So bring some home for the team. The softer and stinkier the better, but I don't need to tell you that. I'm counting on you.
Your best friend,
MP
