A Letter

Dear Patchypatchypoopoo,

Yesterday you turned 8 weeks old. Your favorite things to do are play with your lion, earn treats and cuddle. You eat about 2 cups of dry dog food a day. You're learning to walk on the leash and respect your Pack Leader. You're growing like a weed. Your Dad and I are already attached to you after just 1 week and 2 days of having you. Your real Mom died after she gave birth to you. Sorry you'll never know her, but if you want to meet your Dad, we can discuss it when you're old enough (possibly 18 dog years old?) Don't let anyone make fun of you because you are "vision impaired". Okay, we make fun of you sometimes... like when you ran into the door last night. Dad says I get "nervous energy" when I'm around you. I think he's right. I'm afraid you will nibble my ankles, but I also think that he's too big a fan of The Dog Whisperer. This week you'll get to meet Aunt Anna. She's cool. I hope you understand when we accidentally call you Squince. This is our second go-round (no offense). I couldn't imagine this house without you, but if you keep leaving huge puddles of peepee on my carpet, you might get shipped back to Charlotte. 

All my love, 

Mom