Archive of ‘Letters to Shiva’ category
Dear Startled Dog Park Man,
I am sorry I didn’t feel sorry when my dog tore open your flimsy plastic treat bag. Giggling and shrugging were probably not the most considerate responses to my dog’s stealing all of your dehydrated turkey. I know how expensive that stuff is. I forget that most other dogs have manners and don’t see a Ziploc bag waved in their faces as an invitation to destroy. No doubt it is behaviour for which I should feel ashamed.
Perhaps if you hadn’t rewarded my dog for ignoring my recall I would have felt a bit more apologetic in the moment. I realize you were just being generous, but I would ask in the future that if I am calling my dog away, you don’t stop and give her a treat. Doing so only encourages her begging and makes it harder for me to convince her to leave you alone. It would be like someone throwing one hundred dollar bills at you while your boss yells at you to get back to work. On whom would you focus your attention in that scenario? You really did bring it on yourself.
Again, I am truly sorry I my dog ate all of your treats. I am glad they didn’t make her sick.
Your Fellow Dog Walker
I know you haven’t had an easy time of it lately. I know between the cone and the kennel rest and the harassment from the feline you are probably losing some serious shit. All you want to do is play and run around. But you can’t and it sucks. It sucks for us too. I promise if you keep hanging in there, eventually there will be a time you can do this again:
But all work and no sleep makes for very grumpy humans. I don’t like being grumpy. I don’t like locking you in your kennel at night. So if it’s not too much to ask, could you please, please, please settle down nicely tonight?
The Woman Who Controls Your Food Supply
To the So-Called Dog Lover at the Pet Store,
What may have seemed like a rip-off to you actually made my dog much more comfortable during her time of distress. I don’t care if you thought the flexible blue cone was a waste of money. It was cheap, but still far nicer than the horrible, stiff, plastic thing the vet gave us. I don’t appreciate your rude attitude nor do I appreciate you telling my practically husband that spending money on something that might make our dog’s life a little easier is stupid.
You’re stupid. I hope whatever animal you own never has to wear such a thing but if he or she does, I hope you learn the error of your ways.
Your Former Customer
Dear Food Network Canada,
I admit, I have stopped watching you. There was a time I was your biggest fan. I would gleefully rush home after work to make sure I caught the latest installment of Top Chef Canada. And I loved you even more for Bitchin’ Kitchen. Somehow, though, I got over you. Maybe it was all the unnecessary drama over who made the best appetizer out of vending machine snacks. I can’t say why but I’ve tuned out. Your longtime, hardcore fan no longer is even willing to pay the $3.00 a month to watch your network.
That’s right. I don’t get the Food Network anymore. Haven’t for months.
Wanna know one way to recapture my loyalty?
I have this friend. She has this blog, called Kol’s Notes. If you are worth anything you will have heard of it. She comes up with amazingly creative recipes, like these ginger apple and lamb muttballs or these ingenious shepherd’s pie pupcakes. I mean, seriously. She is the Martha Stewart of dogginess. Do you need any more proof than her most recent holiday concoction? Dog treat filled ornaments! Who does that?
A talented woman, that’s who. If your network is worth anything, it would recognize how booming the pet industry is and leap on that bandwagon. I’d like to suggest Ms. Kolchak Puggle as your first doggy chef. Smart, hilarious, and adorable, she is a guaranteed ratings diva.
Think about it.
A Closet Foodie
Dear Kitty Meister,
Before this becomes a habit, let me make one thing clear to you. No amount of scratching, howling, or shrieking at the treat cupboard is going to get you what you want. It may have worked in the past because you are really annoying when you holler at the top of your lungs but no more!
You may think you deserve sympathy due to your advanced age. You are wrong. Nine years is not that old, my furry friend. You are perfectly healthy. Stop the whole pathetic feline act and stop pretending you are starving when you have a full food bowl and when I know your favourite person gave you a handful of kitty crack less than thirty minutes ago.
It is time for an intervention. If you don’t keep your trap shut, I may decide you need to be weaned off the treats completely. Cold turkey. How do you like them apples?
Your Consolation Human
It is almost the holiday season and that means my new favourite pet blogging event is upon us. That’s correct, it is time for the Pet Blogger Gift Exchange, hosted by none other than Something Wagging This Way Comes and I Still Want More Puppies.
Have you signed up yet? Why not? Better get on it before December 1st rolls around and everyone is having fun and making new friends without you.
C’mon… You know you wanna and I wanna get to know you better! So what’s stopping you?
Your biggest fan,
Your Fellow Pet Blogger
Dear Driver of the Ford Ranger That Almost Hit Me and My Dog While You Ran a Red Light,
Terrified Dog Walker Who is Just Grateful to be Alive
Dear Foster Kittens,
I am new to this fostering deal. Really, this is only the second time I’ve done this. I have absolutely nothing to base this on but I gotta say, all three of you are the cutest little bundles of fur I have ever cuddled. You are sweet, you are funny, and you have yet to insert your sharp teeth into my skin. You are proof that three are definitely better than one. You all validate everything I’ve ever said about early socialization being crucial to developing stable personalities.
It’s going to be very hard to say goodbye when you are big enough for adoption. In a perfect world, I would keep you all. You were the best Valentine’s gift a girl could have. I am going to miss you.
Your Temporary Litter Box Cleaner
I want to thank you for your patience. I haven’t made things easy on you lately and have instead put a lot of weight on your well-muscled shoulders. You’ve handled it with style. Despite not getting to do as much together as we normally do, you’ve retained your sanity. I promise a lot of fun is on the way.
I love your silliness and, secretly, I don’t even really mind it when you jump on me in the morning, spilling my coffee everywhere. Okay, I do mind the coffee all over my pants. I only have so many pairs suitable for the office and laundry is my least favourite chore. But then you wag your tail and lean your head against me and all is forgiven.
It is my unshakeable belief that as long as you keep wiggling your bum and jumping on registration tables, everything will be okay. Don’t ever change.
Your Hopeful Human
Dear Kind Dog Park Man,
I’m sorry I doubted you. I should have known that someone who is willing to slip on icy paths at six in the morning is automatically a kindred spirit. You are a fellow member of the pre-dawn dog walking society. You live in Pretentiousville and yet you proudly show off your goofy mixed-breed pals. We should be instant friends. You, of all people, get it.
I am even more sorry to hear your smaller dog was attacked. I am a selfish heel for not looking beyond my own issues. Obviously there could be many reasons you stayed away from us at the park. It’s awful that this time was one in which the little guy was hurt. I am so glad he is okay. And not just because he is Shiva’s favourite little buddy.
It was great to see all three of your again this morning. I hope you enjoyed the rest of your walk.
Your Fellow Mutt Lover
Dear Dragon’s Den hosts,
It is too bad you felt the need to denigrate a presenter’s business simply because it was about helping senior dogs. Many of you didn’t even bother to ask questions about the entrepreneur’s financials. The fact that it was a business that involved selling diapers for dogs was enough for you to say no.
I wish you hadn’t felt the need to draw a line between helping people and helping animals. I don’t understand why the two have to be mutually exclusive. To help animals isn’t to ignore the needs of humans. The two intersect much more often than you are aware. It’s too bad you can’t see that.
In the end, it’s your loss. The pet industry is growing exponentially. No doubt the business owner is better off without you anyway. More money for her.
Dear High Cost of Heating Oil,
Broke Renter Who is Running Out of Clean Blankets
There’s been a lot going on lately, hasn’t there? I am really impressed with how gracefully you’ve handled all the changes. I think the cat took the move harder than you did. You seemed to trust that as long as you were with us, everything would be okay. It’s faith like yours that keeps me sane.
You are such a mature dog now, sometimes I even forget how nutty you used to be. If my former self could see how tolerant you are with the little girls down the street, she would probably start crying. Naturally, you always make sure to remind me if I start to slide. You know better than anyone how to keep me on my toes!
Like last week, when you decided all boogie boards were tools of evil demons in disguise. That was fun.
In fact you are so much steadier, that I have actually started to contemplate adding a fifth member to our family. It’s early days yet, don’t worry. Although I say that and my mind goes immediately to Dawson, a lively boy who has been living in a shelter for far too long. As sorry as I feel for him and as awesome as he is, I don’t think I am quite ready to start all over again.
It’s a lot of work, living with a newly adopted dog. You taught me that. But when we brought you home I felt prepared, even if I wasn’t. I had planned and saved and researched for months before we ever went to the shelter to meet you. Considering Dawson as our second dog feels rushed. Impulsive. Cautitious Kristine doesn’t do things like that.
But this is my year of zoomery, isn’t it?
Everything just feels so nice now. We have a yard to train in, an off-leash park within walking distance, and you actually let us sleep in past six am. There are so many things I still want to do with you. Just you. I worry a new dog would put distance between us. That your big trialing debut would be put off indefinitely. A new silly boy around is bound to take up most of my attention. I am positive our daily walks would be cut back. The last thing I want is for you to be pushed aside, put on the back burner for later.
On the other hand, I think about all the things you would gain with a live-in buddy. If the new dog liked to play and run and tug as much as you do, I am sure you’d have a blast. Maybe you wouldn’t even miss the time when it was just you and me.
Perhaps I am thinking about this too much. Typical human behaviour. Really we can’t make a decision without getting your opinion on the matter. You are a pretty important member of this family and the resident canine expert. Any potential new dog needs to pass your inspection first. I really shouldn’t even be talking about this before hearing from you.
It’s in your hands now, Sheevs. What do you think we should do?
Dear Timbit Monster,
I’ve been struggling with what to say to commemorate your third adoption anniversary. That’s my excuse for tardiness, anyway. You don’t mind, do you?
Of course not. You’re a dog. You didn’t even notice that we didn’t buy you any presents this year. I knew you wouldn’t care but your male human felt pretty guilty about it. I do wish we had a good reason other than procrastination. We’ll get you something cool soon, I promise. Even though I revoked your Shiva the Destroyer title, I know you still enjoy a good stuffed-toy gutting every now and then.
I suppose I should outline all your accomplishments and remark on how much you have changed. But honestly? I don’t know if you have changed that much. Not really. You are still the same goofball who walked through our door that first day and immediately got into a fight with The Cat. You still have far more energy than you know how to control and you still dive toward every bag you see in the hope it is filled with treats meant just for you.
It’s we who have changed.
Thanks to you, I now have perspective. I no longer feel like crying when you act like you’ve never set foot in an obedience class. These days even when you humiliate me by ripping the leash out of my hand to greet a dog on the other side of the road, I just laugh. It doesn’t matter as much anymore if you behave as if you have zero training. Other people’s opinions are becoming meaningless. Through your antics you have shown me how to brush off the things that just don’t matter.
Truthfully – though I’ll deny this if you bring it up in the future – I really appreciate your silliness now. If we make it through three walks in a row without a nutty story to tell, I get worried. The older you get, the more I fear you losing your intrinsic Shiva-ness. Three years ago all I wanted was for you to mature and now I have to say… I am kind of dreading it.
Maybe I’ve just lost my mind. Perhaps all this time I have spent with you has finally pushed me off the edge to La La Land. No one would blame me. I have never been a very patient person. You must be able to relate to that. You have never been a patient dog. Yet somehow instead of killing each other, we have ended up teaching each other. When it comes to you, I am magically able to rein in my frustration. Qutting just isn’t an option. No matter how much you push me, I am able to come back the next day for more. You have taught me all about baby steps and working slowly.
I like to think I have done the same for you.
No matter what happens in the rest of our time together, you will always be my best teacher. You are my first dog and I have no doubt you will be my craziest. I can’t see any other dog in the world matching you for sheer enthusiasm. No one zooms like the Shivster. No one knocks over that dang tire jump as often either. I have a feeling that’s going to be your legacy. You will forever be known by our agility instructor as the dog who broke the most equipment.
Thanks for three very memorable years, Sheevs. I hope we have many more.
I apologize. I haven’t written you a letter for a long time. Mostly due to ridiculous feelings of guilt. We haven’t gotten as far in your training this summer as I planned. In early June I had all these goals set and I don’t think we have achieved one of them. You are still barking at the front door when people pass, you still don’t know how to stand on your front legs, you still leap at dogs on the sidewalk, and you are no closer to swimming than I am to flying a plane.
You probably don’t care about these things the same way I do. But that doesn’t stop me from feeling ashamed of my laziness. It’s been a busy summer in many ways and we have done some pretty cool things. Just not the three things I wanted most. I’ve no one to blame but myself, of course.
Perhaps I need to give myself a break. It seems to be in my nature to focus on my mistakes. Like the time I few weeks ago with the three little dogs on our front lawn. Do you remember? I wasn’t sure if I should let you greet them or not. I hesitated too long and you took matters into your own hands, leaping and barking at the small creatures. It wasn’t your fault the dogs’ owner made a hasty retreat after tossing you a terrified glance. It’s never your fault. However, beating myself up about my dog training sins doesn’t help either. I love how quickly you always bounce back, as if the incident never happened.
I still have a lot to learn from you.
Like how you never let your fears stop you from doing what you want. I will never forget the time you jumped off the dock into the river at the dog park. Did you forget you don’t like to swim? I’ll never understand what inspired you to do that. It was so thrilling! Unfortunately, I don’t think it was as exciting for you and the fright you gave yourself that day seems to have made you more wary of open water than ever. We’ll work on this, though. I promise. You’re still young and I know you can do it.
We’ve been asked to participate in a dog training demo during the Rescue Dog Show next weekend. Don’t tell him I told you, but your male human doesn’t think you are ready. He doesn’t think you could handle an audience of that size. He thinks you’ll flip out and go on a manic zoom around the exhibition hall. Maybe he’s right but I would like to give you a chance. I know you have it in you to be a super-star.
Whether I have it in me is another story.
While I may have disappointed myself in not reaching my summer goals, I can’t say we have achieved nothing. Most of the difficulties we have with each other revolve around a lack of understanding. You do you best to communicate with me and I do my best to communicate with you, yet we still don’t always connect. Our relationship is not an easy one as a result. This summer I think I have learned how to make things simpler for you. I have realized that the disconnect happens when I don’t make my signals absolutely clear. In that area I think I have made some great gains. You may not be performing hand-stands but I do think we have grown just a bit closer in the last couple months. That’s no small thing.
Thanks for all of your patience, Sheevs. I know I have been a slow learner. I promise to learn from your example and to try to be more patient with you. You are an awesome dog but there is only so much you can do on your own. It’s time for the human to step it up.
The crazy woman at the other end of the leash