Dear Monday,

I know it seems like I can’t stand you.  Okay, truth is, I can’t stand you most of the time, but that’s not what I’m talking about here.

What I really want to tell you is, even though you eat my clothes and food right off the counter and table; even though you poop all over the yard and jump on the kids when they go outside so that they have been inside allwinterlong; even though you bark non stop and nose me in the crotch and sometimes still poop in the house; even though . . .

I still love you.

No, really.

And you know why?  Because you clean up any residue left on the floors from meals.  From the floor and even from the chairs!  And we both know that can be a lot.

So thanks.

And stop eating my clothes.