Jake’s Christmas Letter to His Mom.

The drive home.

Dear Mom, I’m sorry I dragged you over the cliff. But it was a herd of eight deer, mom. A. Herd. Of. Eight. Deer. I counted… eight. And in my defense, they leaped over the trail right in front of us, all eight of them, single file. I didn’t have time to think. You sometimes forget at heart I am a predator. I may be a doggie genius, but my instinctive prey drive can override my cognitive processes in a nanosecond. Oh, and I’m sorry for hauling you across the meadow when I spotted that buck, but try to see it from my perspective- he was a six pointer with a massive head and neck, just like Bambi’s dad. How could I not chase him? I mean, he was an animated character come to life! Seriously. On the bright side… It was the meadow and you managed to stay upright that time.

The long drive home.

Dear Mom, I’m sorry I misjudged the distance during my most recent *fly-by. I’m sorry I sent you sprawling into the sand. I know it sounds lame, but I neglected to make adjustments for the strong head wind when I leaped into the air. But if you look on the bright side it was the beach and you weren’t injured and this is only the second time I’ve miscalculated in two whole years. So you have to give me some credit. I was so humiliated and ashamed and filled with remorse that I climbed into your lap and licked your face. (Never mind that I then proceeded to dig a hole beneath you in case it was necessary to hide the body…) Look at it this way- Anybody mess with my mom I’m on him like white on rice. I’ll rip him limb from limb. I’ll moitilize him (it’s a good dog word). Why, they’ll be nothing left of him but chum, yeah, chum, for that Red Triangle. You know, that part of the ocean we were staring at?

*fly-by: Jake’s practice attack. He runs at high speed then leaps into the air and sails past my shoulder, barely a hair’s breadth away. I turn sideways to present a smaller target. He never comes at me all out and he loves doing it. It looks like this except no teeth:

The mop.

Dear Mom, I’m sorry I mopped the floor with the cat. But there was water on the floor and the cat was on the floor and he’s kinda fluffy and it was the cat so I figured… I did clean his ears afterwards.

Dear Mom, I’m sorry I licked that human poop, but in my defense if whoever pooped didn’t want me to lick it he or she wouldn’t have left it on the side of the trail. He or she would have pooped somewhere off the trail and kicked dirt over it like a civilized creature.

New deck in progress.

Dear Mom, thanks for building me this amazing obstacle course! I love it!

Louie’s stash.

Dear Mom, thanks for unearthing my older brother’s secret cache of bones when you were getting ready to build my amazing obstacle course!

Dear Mom, thanks for not freaking out when I found that fawn’s rib cage and chased the cougar and ripped off my toenail and sliced my face with barbed wire. Thanks for brushing the stickers out of my hair and checking my feet for foxtails every single day. Thanks for pulling out those nasty deer ticks. (Yeah, we all know, the entire neighborhood can hear your screams.)

Love ya, Mom!

Chicks dig scars…