Mom told me today is Father’s Day and that today I was to think real hard on what my Dad means to me. I think I must have looked confused. She changed her mind and said to just think about all the things my Dad does for me, then I’m suppose to write it down. Man, this must be a special day, I have to think and write. Mom tells me to try really hard to do it, to try hard like when Mom and I are walking and the cat across the street makes faces at me. I have to concentrate really hard to keep walking with my Mom.
I remember meeting my Dad when I was little. He had on these cool white socks. I wanted one and tried to steal it by pulling on it, but it just wouldn’t come loose. It made my Mom and Dad smile.
Whenever I do tricks my Dad smiles. He likes it when we play fetch. At night, when it’s quiet and Mom and Dad are watching the flashing lights, I fetch a towel from the bathroom and give it to my Dad. He tells me it was a good trick and gives me treats. Sometimes I have to go way across the house and fetch the towels in that bathroom, because Mom moved the other towels to where I can’t reach them. She just does not understand the fetch game like my Dad does. My Dad is great. He gives me lots and lots of treats, even when Mom tells him he’s making me fat.
Sometimes my Dad gets mad at me. I don’t know why he does this ‘puting thing. He sits and stares at the ‘puter. Sometimes he laughs at what he sees; sometimes he gets mad and mutters at the ‘puter. He tells me he is working and he gets really mad when he is ‘puting and I hit it with my paw or close the lid by bumping it with my head. Then he says he’s sorry for getting mad and tells me I’m a good boy and gives me treats. He tells me I’m a good boy all the time. When he says I keeping lowering the bar on what good means, I get confused. That’s a good thing right? A lower bar means I can jump over it easier, right?
My Dad takes care of me when I hurt. If my ear aches he rubs my belly and puts drops in my ear. I don’t like the drops, but I like belly rubs and being told I am a good boy. Sometimes, when I really hurt, Mom or Dad take me to the scary place they call the Vet. There are lots of scared and hurt cats and dogs there. That makes me scared. They poke me in places I don’t want to talk about. My Dad says they are going to make me better. He tells me I am brave and a good boy, so I let them poke me and do weird things.
So that’s what my Dad means to me. Lots of belly rubs, cuddles, treats, “good boy’s” and knowing he will take good care of me.
Thanks Dad, you’re a good dad.