LunaChat

“Morning mom! Can you hear me? Here, I’ll lick your face for a bit to make sure you know I’m talking to YOU.

So, I know it’s an hour before you usually wake up, but I thought I heard a click. And I then I thought perhaps that quiet click noise was the sound of your alarm going off. And I would hate for you to be late because your alarm clock was malfunctioning. Mom? Mom! MOM!!! Well, now that you’re up, can we go out? It’s not because I have to go to the bathroom, because I don’t yet, and when you let me out I’m just going to sit there like a moron. Because I’m retarded. Or at least, I like you to think I am because it means I don’t get in as much trouble when I eat your saltines and pee all over the floor.”
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“I see that strange electronic thingy in your lap which you constantly tap your fingers against. And I totally know that means you’re working…but I’m bored. And I need you to amuse me. No, NO, I do not want that bone! BARK! It has no flavor left and it just sits there. BARK! BARK! That bone doesn’t throw itself mama! Ok, that’s good…you hold one end and I’ll tug on the other. Oops, sorry! Your thumb got in the way of my teeth. You should really be more careful, mama.

Well, you give up rather easy. I’m very strong, I know, but a little more effort on your part would be appreciated. I’ve been patient all morning, so if you don’t acknowledge me soon, I’m going to start pacing back and forth in front of you and barking loudly. And then I will intermittently lay my pathetic head in your lap, resting my chin on that button that makes you scream and yell words whose meanings I don’t understand, but the tone…the tone, I get. And again, you can’t get mad because I’m just your retarded little Katrina rescue. And then you’ll have to get up and play with me.

Mom? BARK! Why aren’t you getting up? BARK!!

You apparently don’t love me.

You’ve never loved me.”
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“I know that when your friends come over, I’m not supposed to jump on them. But how else am I supposed to show my excitement? A tail wag just simply is not enough to show you how happy I am to have visitors. And I know that there’s that one guy specifically who I’m supposed to leave alone. But that guy obviously doesn’t like me and I think he should. And I know everyone else visiting loves me, but that one guy, that guy is the one who needs my attention most.

And I know that when he’s sitting across the room, eyeing me warily, that he’s really just inwardly hoping I’ll run over to him and springboard off the ottoman into his lap, licking his face with my gassy, sphincter-licking breath. I mean, he must enjoy that. Even if he doesn’t like me, he’s got to like it when I put both my paws on his shirt, leaving my signature print of dirt and mud. I think that if you just let me persist, that he will indeed like me by the time he leaves tonight. Especially after I sneeze in his coffee.

Mom? Mom? Why are you hanging your head like that?”
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“But, mama…you don’t understand. Stop yelling for a second. That hole NEEDED to be dug. There was something moving in there and I needed to protect you from it! Well, don’t waste your time looking now…it’s not there anymore. But I’ll let you know the second it comes back.

What are you doing? Why are you filling in my hole? That took me the whole morning! Oh well, I’ll just start over tomorrow.”
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“You’re talking into that thing again! BARK! That small, weird looking thing that you hold up to your ear! BARK! And your voice gets very loud when you talk to that thing and I just don’t understand! BARK BARK! Who are you talking to? And why so loud, mom? Seriously, I know we’re from the south and all, but that accent rarely surfaces this strongly. Usually only when you talk into that THING AGAINST YOUR EAR and when you drink from the bottle with the cork in it.”
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"I know YOU don’t love me, but YOUR mom loves me. And when I go sit by her side and perk my ears up and wag my tail with my cute little wrinkled face in her lap, she always gives me snacks. Like that time she cooked a whole pork chop JUST FOR ME! And we all ate dinner together off of the most expensive china you own. And by “china” I mean your Pier 1 plates, of course. And then, there was that time that she shared an entire can of Pringles with me, one by one, even though you told her not to. And I went into your living room, tummy rumbling and threw up every last piece of Pringle and Kibble and leftover hotdog from dinner all over your new white couch. And you had to wake up several times in the night to take me for a walk while I pooped liquid."
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“What is this thing you’re doing with your hands? You’re rubbing them against me! That must mean it’s playtime! And I’m going to fling my body around and knock you in the face with my hard, hard head because I’m SOEXCITEDTHATYOUWANTTOPLAYWITHME! And this tail of mine—yeah, I know that it kind of feels like I’m slashing you with a whip, but I really can’t control it. I swear. I even hit myself in the face sometimes, and I agree…it hurts.

What? Why are you pulling me toward you? Are we wrestling now? Ohh, I like wrestling!

Ohhh, I get it. You’re in that weird mood that you humans feel sometimes where you just need to hold me. And your face—it’s leaking again. Here, mom, let me lick that for you. Mm, you taste like cookies. Did you eat cookies today without me? It's ok, I guess...but next time, you’d better share them!

Aw, I love you too, mama.”