I'm sorry

I'm sorry I promised you that nothing would change when Truman arrived. I didn't know.

I'm sorry I sometimes forget to greet you or scratch you behind the ears when I get home.

I'm sorry I told everyone about that time you got in trouble with animal control, I know you are embarrassed about that.

I'm sorry I washed your bed and forgot to put it in the dryer and you had to sleep on the floor.

I'm sorry I overdose you with treats to make me feel less guilty for ignoring you.

I'm sorry I yell at you when you go after Tru's toys. They squeak, afterall.

I'm sorry we don't spend entire dinner conversations talking about how handsome and smart you are. We still think you are handsome and smart, it is just that there is a slightly more handsome and smart six-month old yuckin' it up from his high chair.

I'm sorry. I still think you are the best Puerto Rican mutt turned aggressive farm dog to grace this sweet planet. If I take you to the beach this weekend will you forgive me? Love, mama.