Dear Chosen One

Dear Chosen One,

I woke up in the middle of a blanket tug-o-war last night and realized it was time for another little chat.

First, I apologize for the kicking and screaming but I was freezing and that last dig was completely unnecessary. We’ve discussed this before. Everyone has his or her place in the bed. It is a big bed with ample pillowing and coverage. There shouldn’t be any squabbling! There shouldn’t be any treading into someone else’s sleep space! Bed is not for rabble-rousing and tug-o-war. Bed is for peace and harmony and that oh-so-elusive thing called sleep.

I hate having to go through this repeatedly. It isn’t like you just got here and don’t how to behave. People who don’t know you always think it’s cute and then they start talking. Coy and aloof, friendly and charming, needy and crying.  It’s wearing thin and even the dog is starting to laugh.

You don’t want that do you; the dog laughing at you?

I’ve overlooked a lot lately so I suppose a great deal of it is my fault. I adore you but it really isn’t okay to flop down behind me, flop down in front of me or lie down on the computer, iPad, Kindle, book or whatever I might be occupied with at the moment. I don’t need help cooking, cleaning, dressing (my leg is not a toy!) or knocking things off the table. One. By. One.

I really didn’t need the assistance you gave me up the stairs—or the broken finger that went with it.

Or the 1” fang buried into my big toe that was bared in the middle of the night during a certain tug-o-war—and apparently wiggled.


PS:  They got in that food you love so much, so I’ll be late getting home this evening big boy!




9 thoughts on “Dear Chosen One

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