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A hearty "Jambo!" to you.

These are my musings and recommendations. I write about everything. Enjoy your stay.

A Letter To The Sniveling,Yapping King Charles Spaniel That Lives Below Me And Never Stops Barking

A Letter To The Sniveling,Yapping King Charles Spaniel That Lives Below Me And Never Stops Barking

Dear Dog,

For the purposes of this letter, I’m just going to assume that you can read. At this point nothing would surprise me about your species. Metaphorically speaking, humans have been sucking dogs dicks in 2018 more so than they have in the past with memes referring to you as “puppers” and “doggos” and how fucking great you guys are, so I really don’t think it’s a stretch for me to think that you can read.

If I learned anything from the Internet, it’s that you’re supposed to believe everything that gets posted, and since the Internet tells me that dogs are the greatest thing ever created and that we don’t deserve you on this planet I’m going to believe it (at least for the purposes of this letter).

I don’t really have a problem with your species. You and I can coexist on this planet as long you stay a few feet away from me at all times as I am extremely allergic.  

I don’t have the time or the need for a dog myself (even if it is hypoallergenic), but I get the attraction between human and canine. I understand that some people need an animal like you to fill a void in their life and that’s all well and good.

But you- you sniffling, beady eyed, giant ear having, Cavalier King Charles Spaniel who lives a few feet below me can fuck right off. I see you perched in your street-facing window every morning as I leave for work. You look unkempt, bored, and believe or not I can actually smell you from the hallway.

Some of this isn’t your fault, okay? I know your parents. I mean I don’t know them, know them, but we’ve met.

They’re cold, rude, and don’t seem to be very personable. I’ve talked with them only a handful of times - hell, when I first moved in I brought a six pack of beer to their door and introduced myself, extending those beers as a sign of goodwill and what did I get in return? Other than a slammed door in my face, a quick, curt “Thanks for the beer” and a limp wristed handshake.

I know you can’t bathe yourself - you’re a fucking dog after all. You shed hair (or at least I think you do) and if your owners refuse to bathe you or clean up the hair that you leave all over their apartment there’s nothing you can do about that.

Again, you’re a dog. Not all of this is your fault. But I am begging you. I am literally typing this letter on my hands and knees asking you politely to please, for the love of everything that is holy - PLEASE STOP BARKING. That’s all you fucking do.

You start promptly at 6:00 a.m. every morning. I lay in my bed, listening to that bullshit for an hour while I try to get one last remaining hour of sleep before I’m forced to go into work. You don’t pay rent in this building. I do. Could you hold off on the barking until 7:15 a.m. or so? Is that really so much to ask?

Truth be told I wouldn’t be writing you this long winded letter if it was just the barking in the morning. I understand that as a simple minded creature beneath the standing of mortals like myself, you can’t help yourself when you see another canine roaming the street outside with their owner.

The real kicker - the reason I’ve decided to write this letter this morning is because about a week ago the barking began during the evening hours as well. From about 8 to 10 pm every night for the last week, you’ve been barking your mangy little head off with no regard for me or the Ken Burns documentary I’ve been trying to re-watch about Baseball.

Every time I think your barking has ceased, it starts right up again a few seconds later which is really the worst thing about it. It’d be one thing if it was non-stop incessant barking, but what you do is stop for about ten second increments, which gives me a glimmering hope that you’ve keeled over and died perched atop your fluffy iron throne that sits in the window sill.

I’m at my wits end here. I haven’t contacted the landlord yet because I’m not a fucking narc but if this barking continues during the hours that I’m home on the weekdays you’ll leave me no choice. Just stop barking at night. You can keep doing it in the morning as long as it’s after 7:00 a.m. Those are my demands. I know I’m supposed to be nice to dogs because everyone else in this godforsaken world loves you, but I’m just going to say it- fuck you.

Sincerely,

John

It's Officially "You Can Come Over Here But I'm Not Going Anywhere" Season

It's Officially "You Can Come Over Here But I'm Not Going Anywhere" Season

The Guy With The Poster Boards In "Love, Actually" Actually Sucks

The Guy With The Poster Boards In "Love, Actually" Actually Sucks