Monster Maltese

I would like some dinner too, please

Dear Mommy;
My sister Tess sent you a very rude message to tell you she is hungry. Although I will not sink to her level of behavior, I would very much like to eat something now myself. After all, you have been on that clickety-clack typing machine for almost 3 hours and we're rather hungry.
Most politely,
Spike
a.k.a. The Poop Monster

I hope I do not get in trouble for this.

Tessie showed me how to make this plastic thing go clickety-clack and she said it made words show up and people could read them. I am not sure this is a good thing for me to play with, but Tess says it is okay and she is a little bit of a bully and she wants me to so I will.
Hello, I am Spike. Mommy went to work. Tessie and I have already done our morning barking, so I am looking forward to having a nap in the sunshine before our afternoon barking begins. Barking is so much fun. Napping is also fun, and it's better when Mommy is at work because she keeps waking me up when she is here because she is very loud. Tess says Mommy can't help it because she is a little bit clumsy, so I try not to be scared.
Thank you, and I hope I do not get in trouble for this.
Spike

Dear Lady;

It has been an interesting day here at our apartment home.

Mr. Bill was here again. All he did was look at the refridgerator. I am not sure if you want him to be here or not, so just in case Tess and I both barked at him. He would not leave so I decided to bite his ankle. He just laughed and he still would not leave. So I went and hid under the bed. I hope we did the right thing.

Tess ate a Spike-bone treat that Mr. Bill gave her, but I would not eat one because I remembered you said not to take food from a stranger.

Also, Tess was on your computer just now. Since she turned it on I thought it would be all right for me to type too. I hope that is okay.

Also, I don't want to scare you but I heard on your radio this morning that there might be thunderstorms this afternoon and I just want to say that I hope you are home before they start. I really, really, really, really hope you are home.

Spike's mommy writes

My very dear Spike;

Today, it's been two years since I brought you home to live with me and Tess. They have been wonderful years for me; I hope they have been all you could have dreamed of and more.

You've changed in so many ways in these two years, I don't even know where to begin to tell you about it. So let's start with the easy stuff. For one thing, you're quite healthy now. Just two short years ago you were underweight, infested with fleas and hookworms and ear mites, and your mouth was full of rotten teeth that made your droll all the time and made your breath stink to high heaven. You were also "full male," fresh from your career of siring puppies in that horrible place you'll never have to go back to.

What can I say except that today you are healthy, even a little bit overweight (although I don't begrudge you that one bit). You've got a lot fewer teeth, it's true, but the ones you have are strong. You still drool when you're nervous or worried (or car sick). Your coat shines, your tail is long and bushy and beautiful, and without those "full male" parts, you are a lot more calm and even-tempered. Your tongue hangs out of your mouth most of the time because it's just too big to fit in your mouth, and that makes you look like you're smiling all the time.

Two years ago you didn't know how to drink water or eat from a bowl. The water always wound up on top of your head, and for weeks the only way you would eat is if I held you and gave you the food piece by piece. But together, you and Tess and I perservered. Right now, you eat Royal Canin food for Yorkies, and in fact when you're wet you look like a pale Yorkie. Maybe you're half Yorkie, who knows? You still like to splash the water around, and sometimes you have trouble eating because your teeth are acting up again or the darn bowl keeps sliding away from you, and you don't really like for anyone to watch you eating, but you manage to get all that you need in a very delicate, adorable way.

That's been the biggest surprise, Spike. For all your rough and tumble, growl-in-your-face, bite-at-your-ankle ways, you are certainly more graceful and delicate than Tess. You don't like getting your little paws wet, and the very idea of snow makes you quiver -- Mommy, where did the ground go? I never thought I'd say this, but sometimes you are even cuter than my darling Tess.

Speaking of Tess, you rely on her to know what to do and how to react to every situation. And that's fine with her. She wouldn't admit it, but I think she'd be lost without you around too. I know sometimes she gets mean about food, but you're smart enough to know when to give up and let her have it. (Plus I sneak you treats on the side so that she doesn't get it all.)

Two years ago, the very idea of taking you for a walk was worthy of laughter. But now you're so excited to get your walk every night that you just dance around and play the couch game before you'll let me put your leash on. Oh yes, the couch game. That's the one where I tell you to go to your "spot," and you jump up onto the big couch. But if I walk towards you to put your leash on before you sit down, you jump down and run around some more. Then I know that I've got to make a big show out of unlocking the door, and you'll tear off and jump back up on the couch and sit down on your hind legs. Then you'll let me put on your harness and leash and we're off! You're a natural heeler, by which I mean that your favorite place to walk is right at my left heel. I don't hold you there with your leash, you're just happier there unless you sense that there's something in front of us worth checking out right now. I think outside is your favorite thing.

You still don't play much, my precious, although I have caught you giving Tess a play bow and trying to get her to romp with you. She won't do it when I'm around -- I hope she does when I'm away. She does run with you on our walks now, and it makes both of you very happy. It makes me very happy to see your hair flowing as you run; you're beautiful then.

You aren't attached to any toys, although there are a few chewy things that you quite like. You still think I'm throwing things at you when I try to get you to play fetch -- there's one place where you don't follow Tess's lead. You've learned how to dig food out of a Kong toy, and you must like to chew on your Kong even without any food because sometimes at night I hear you making it go squeak. I wish I could teach to play and have fun more often, but sometimes I think it's just too late for you.

You and Tess are always quick to greet me when I come home, and you always lick me over and over to say hello. You've usually gone potty on the floor so I have to pick that up really quickly, and then all three of us sit on the couch and cuddle for a few minutes -- then you get to EAT! I leave about three puppy pee pads down for you every day, and you've gotten really good about going on them. (Or maybe I've just gotten really good at knowing where I should put them.)

You're still afraid of thunderstorms. They make you quake. You don't like your routine being interrupted, and you don't like it when I move furniture around. You still like to sleep with your head on Tess's butt.

You love to cuddle -- in fact, you're a world-class cuddle bunny. And you even like having your belly scratched, which is a very vulnerable position and I'm really proud of you for that.

The biggest difference, Spike, is one that's hard to put in words. It's not that you love and are loved, although that's part of it. It's not that you're in an environment that you trust, but that's part of it too. It's not the air conditioning in the summer or the heater in the winter, or the cool clean water or a safe place to sleep.

Although those things are part of what's really changed, Spike. What's really changed is that you are now an independent being, when you didn't even know what that was before. You had no concept of being able to make a choice about anything, because you had never known what it's like to get to decide what you did. You just did whatever you were made to do, even if you didn't like it. The only option you knew of was running away. Either do it, or run. I hope that I've given you lots of chances to decide for yourself what you want and what you like. I hope you haven't felt forced into too much, and that you understand how much better your life is when you get to be in charge of it. I hope your life and your mind and your soul is full and free and happy.

P.S. That does NOT mean you don't have to go the vet again. Just because you can make choices about what you do and don't want to do, doesn't mean that there aren't still some things you have to do, like the vet and haircuts and getting your flea drops.

P.S.S. I love you.

The end

Mommy writes: Spike left me this morning. He was only sick for a day and a half, and I believe he passed away in his sleep. I don't know what happened; I'm hoping a necropsy can shed some light.

My Little Man, I will always miss you. I hope I was able to heal your heart and soul, at least a little bit, and I hope you have at last found a completely safe place to rest, but don't forget to romp and play in the sunshine. Thank you for helping to raise Tiger, the new puppy. You stepped in and became the dad he needed. I'm sorry your puppyhood was not as wonderful as you made his: I'm apologizing for all of humanity that we let you suffer the emotional scars of that puppy mill. I'm so sorry you're gone, and I wish I knew how to bring you back to me, even though I know that would be selfish. I'll never forget you; don't you forget me when you're having so much fun in your new afterlife. I'll growl at Tiger for you every now and then.