Dear Dad:

I'm writing this on the sly, so don't tell Sluggo.

What IS it with the doggie door, anyway? I mean, I had it figured out the first time I saw Mackie slip through it. Sluggo thinks it's scary, but c'mon! Get over it! It's only scary the first time you do it. After that it's like riding a bicycle. (Er, so I've heard.)

Maybe it's because he's so fastidious. Like, take this for example. We go outside and, because Mom has these four trees in the backyard (convenient for peeing, I might add), there are leaves all over the yard. They're crunchy, too. Well, Sluggo and I like to chase each other all around the yard and because we have long hair (hey, we HAVE hair) these crunchy ol' leaves get stuck around the haunches and those delicate areas.

What, you ask, is the problem? It's Sluggo! For crying out loud, just pull the leaves out. Or better yet, go whining up to Mom and she'll pull them away (and give you a pat or two to boot!) No problem, right?

Not for Sluggo! I swear, the boy oughtta be a Dandy Dinmont! He sits down, won't move, bites at the leaves. Worse yet, when Mom picks him up to pull a leaf away (like it EVEN hurts), you'd think she was murdering him.

Oh well. I guess not everyone can be like me, calm, cool and collected. I'm just Puff, one Cool Dood.

Later, Dad!

Puff