Dear Rabi -
You are my favorite pet. You are my shadow and my constant companion.
I forgave you when you ate my camera and the bag it was in. I didn't even make you eat store brand dog food and live in your kennel for a month like I threatened.
I got over your ingestion of my favorite black stilleto heels - the ones that were perfect with THe black dress. Even when the cobbler told me they were mangled beyond repair, I forgave you.
I think it's cute the way you and Ginger nap together - even though he's a cat.
I secretly find the guilty look you give me when you lay on the leather couch - even though you know it is forbidden - cute.
I didn't scream or yell when you dug in the back yardand then tracked mud in on the freshly mopped kitchen floor or when the animal catcher chased you home after you followed Joey to school.
But we have to talk.
You have gas.I know as ladies, we don't speak of such things.
Gas that could kill people if used in mass quantities
Green fog-like gas that makes my eyes water and makes me throw up in my mouth a little.
This could be used as a weapon of mass destruction. Heaven forbid you let one go near a military installation - the silent but deadly fumes would make soldiers don their gas mask in fear of biological weapon contamination.
Charles has less body odor after he comes home from a run or a week long campout.
So tonight, while you sleep outside because I don't think there is a clause in pour home owner's policy about natural gas explosions. I'll be contacting the EPA about a warning label for your butt.
PS - Dear neighbors with the chickens - this is a far more gentle way for your chickens to go to the stock pot in the sky - and a lot less noisy.