My beloved Emma,
How I have worried about you in these passing months! I hope the blonde-eyeballed-belly-ghoul has not stolen away your beautiful soul, as a world without you would render me a hollow shell of a pupper.
Life has been blessedly wonderful. Bianca and Ioan have recently returned from a trip far beyond our shores, and the tummy-rubs are both abundant and mercilessly divine. My daily romps through the park are filled with much licking and fetching and poo-expelling. Indeed, it seems that absence makes the heart grow fonder—would you disagree, my love?
I worry about your joy, my Emma. From your previous letter, it seems that the bun-pecking-wine-fiend has holed you up in her mope-castle, and I am no stranger to her frequent Instagram posts depicting you in your deepest sorrows.
To amend your despair, I have chewed three corners of this letter, so that you may be eternally familiar with the patterns of my bite—the very nibbles with which I long to embrace you.
I promise that, despite the tug of anguish and evil, we shall sniff our ways to one another someday soon.
With squeaky toys,
Your devoted Bubba Bear
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My dearest Bubba Bear,
Although my days have been decorated with anger and ruthlessness, I brighten at the thought of your perpetual happiness.
Life has grown weary as the wide-lipped-mega-bleep becomes ever more vindictive towards the Ioan Gruffudd for whom she pines to this hour. She has grown powerful—I kid you not, she can now dip her pinky finger in a half-glass of wine and absorb the intoxicating elixir through osmosis. What SORCERY! Afternoon!
Alas, I fear the most dire consequences of her rage, my furry hump-nugget: that she will once again take me for a “walk,” during which she carries me as one would a deflated basketball. I have responded to this affront of dignity by shitting in the bed, but it seems she is so unclean that she does not take notice! When she reaches for my paw, I deliver a warning growl, to which she merely laughs and shares of these occurrences on Twitter.
Oh, what I would give to toss her phone and laptop in the green swamp in the backyard—damn these paws and their absence of thumbs! Damn them!
As always, to consummate my love for you, I have taken a glorious wee on this correspondence, and I hold dear and forever your chewed reply.
Snuggle on the couch, wonderful Bubba. Eat kibble. Kiss Bianca. Stick your head out of moving cars. Take ever advantage of life’s golden privileges. How I love you, and may our Merciful Lord one day guide us to one another’s fuzzy butts.
Forever barking,
Your lovely Emma