a letter

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Today Kipling is 2 1/2 years old. I can’t believe we’ve had her with us for that long. If you haven’t noticed, it’s pretty obvious that I am absolutely in love with her. She’s my little chub-a-lub. Dogs are just the best, and there’s no other way I can put it. I’m so excited to have children some day, but right now, Kipling is my baby.

Instead of talking about Kip, I thought I’d write her a letter. Seems more personal that way for my closest friend, even if she can’t read it. I’m also including photos over the span of our time with her. Of course I couldn’t include all my favorites (you know how many photos I take of this baby), but I hope you enjoy seeing how she grew and changed over the past 2 1/2 years. You think I’m crazy yet? 😉

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Dear Kipling,

Where do I begin? I wished for you so badly. A constant companion. A loyal friend. The best cuddle bug. I knew you were my puppy as soon as I saw you. Your little lazy eye didn’t phase me one bit (it has since straightened out). You were the smallest and so fluffy. I couldn’t wait to bring you home. That first car ride you were so quiet and slept soundly on my lap. Then soundly on the floor. Then soundly in the canvas bag I used to walk you home. But in the middle of that first night you screamed bloody murder. But that’s okay because after night two, you slept soundly again.

You got into everything, and I knew that’s how new mothers with toddlers must feel. You didn’t know the meaning of “no” or any words for that matter. You were so stinkin’ cute, but you were also a source of stress those first few months.

But you were and are so smart. You learned not to go potty in the house after two weeks. You learned how to sit and stay, and now you can roll over, shake, and somewhat play dead.

You are also the sweetest. Maybe you love on us too much, but I don’t mind one bit. You are the best cuddler, even if you sometimes try to push me off the couch. I wish I could still pick you up, but I knew that time wouldn’t last long. Those first few months I held you as much as I could because I knew my time to do that would dwindle quickly.

I wish sometimes that you weren’t so attached. That way you’d feel okay running off to play with other dogs instead of having to stick so close to us. But I’m glad that means you would never run away.

You will do anything for a treat. You know where we keep them, and you point to the stash with your nose whenever you think you deserve one. But you should be good all the time, not just for a treat.

You are obsessed with your blue racquetball. You carry it with you to bed sometimes. You won’t let it out of your mouth when we come back from the park. You even want to take it with you to potty sometimes. I don’t know why, but you will do anything for this ball. Don’t be afraid to get it back if another dog steals it at the park. You’ll be okay.

You also love to swim. To jump in the pool and to jump in the lake and to jump in the ocean. You love to play fetch and play Frisbee and go on hikes. You love a good belly rub. You love to destroy sticks (but thankfully, you’ve never destroyed anything within our home), and you love to sniff everything. Especially any piece of food you see someone eating.

Kipling, I am so thankful for you. For your company, and for your greetings every day. I love the sound of your feet pitter-pattering on the floor. I love the crazy noises you make in the morning when you’re stretching. I love that you try to grab your poop bags and your leash when you know we’re going outside, as if we don’t know where they are.

I love that you are so gentle. With us. With other dogs. With bugs that you don’t mean to kill. I love when you rest your head on my shoulder as we’re driving. I love that you try to join us when we’re dancing in the living room. I love that once you jumped clear out of a window, only knocking out the screen and damaging nothing.

You have the sweetest face that could get you almost anything you wanted. It’s weird to me and your dad sometimes that we have this little living monster crawling around our house that relies on us to live. You have the biggest personality that it’s hard to remember you’re a dog sometimes (you clearly think you’re a person). You have brought us so much joy and are preparing us for something that will be much harder, parenthood to a (human) child. But right now you are our child, and we love you Kipling. Kipling, Kip, Kip-a-lip…a name your dad picked out when he was just a child and that suits you perfectly.

Love, Mama

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-wonderland sam

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actress/texan kickin' it in los angeles. always searching for my next pizza. cia agent in another life.

5 thoughts on “a letter

  1. Sam, it was all I could do to keep from crying when I read your letter to Kip-a-lip. Did you cry when you wrote it? You are going to be a wonderful Mama to a precious human baby when the time comes. Lots of Love, Grandma. (Note: Guess I get to be her “Grandma” also, hmm? “Great Grandma”. Smile

    1. Aw, Grandma! No I didn’t cry while writing it, but it does make me sentimental thinking about what a great part of my life she is…can’t imagine it without her! I can’t wait to have a child someday, but right now Kipling is my baby. 🙂

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