If Dogs Sent Letters to God...
Why do humans smell the flowers, but seldom, if ever, smell one another? Where are their priorities?
The garbage collector is not stealing our stuff.
I do not need to suddenly stand straight up when I'm lying under the coffee table.
I will not roll my toys behind the fridge, behind the sofa or under the bed.
I must shake the rainwater out of my fur before entering the house.
I will not eat the cats' food before they eat it or after they throw it up.
I will stop trying to find the few remaining pieces of clean carpet in the house when I am about to get sick.
I will not throw up in the car.
I will not roll on dead seagulls, fish, crabs, etc., just because I like the way they smell.
I will not munch on "leftovers" in the kitty litter box; although they are tasty, they are not food.
I will not eat any more Kleenex or napkins and then redeposit them in the backyard after processing.
The diaper pail is not a cookie jar.
I will not chew my humans' toothbrushes and not tell them.
I will not chew crayons or pens, especially not the red ones, or my people will think I am hemorrhaging.
When in the car, I will not insist on having the window rolled down when it's raining outside.
We do not have a doorbell. I will not bark each time I hear one on television.
I will not steal my mom's underwear and dance all over the back yard with them.
The sofa is not a face towel; neither are Mom and dad's laps.
My head does not belong in the refrigerator.
I will not bite the officer's hand when he reaches in for Mom's driver's license and registration.
I will not play tug of war with dad's underwear when he's on the toilet.
I will not roll around in the dirt right after getting a bath.
Sticking my nose into someone's crotch is not an acceptable way of saying hello.
I will not come in from outside and immediately drag my butt across the carpet.
The toilet bowl is not a never ending water supply and, just because the water is blue, doesn't mean it's cleaner.
I will not sit in the middle of the living room and lick my crotch when company is over.
I will remember that suddenly turning around and smelling my rear end can quickly clear a room.
The cat is not a squeaky toy so when I play with him and he makes that noise, it's usually not a good thing.
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