You are now a lone wolf...

Dear Daddy,

It's me, Reilly. I am writing to tell you have officially been kicked out of the pack. I thought you and I were tight. Until the Small Person #3 arrived, we were the only men in the house (and if you bring up the fact that I do not qualify due to the technical fact I am missing my nuts, I will remind you are shooting blanks as well, my friend). Our fervor for napping, disgusting meat products, such as Taylor ham, and love of head-scratching from, and fear of, The Redhead, created a bond I thought was unbreakable.

Until today.

Let me set the scene. The Redhead had wrapped all the small people in their winter fur-replacement things and partaken in her usual screaming and pushing/pulling of tiny bodies out of the house and into that moving compartment you use to take me to the needle-stabber guy in the white coat. The door had finally closed and I was left to roam the house. Let me tell you, the silence is deafening each morning after all that nonsense. I did my usual rounds, looking for sticky syrup plates left on the coffee table and errant bits of bagel behind Smallest Person's chair, then settled in for a nice nap.

I don't know how much time had elapsed, but all of the sudden The Redhead was standing in the family room doorway making that gasping sound that, first, causes you look around in panic, wondering what you've done, then, when you can't figure it out or escape, lower your head in submission waiting for your inevitable beating anyway. Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about, I've seen you two fight. The words "NOOOO!!!"...."COUCH!!!!" and "BAD BOY!!!!!" were clear despite my hearing them as I raced out of the room to escape the blows raining down on my behind. My first thought was of you. What the fuck, man?

Remember a few weeks back, when you were glued to that glowing screen, watching some men in striped uniforms, swinging big sticks every night and The Redhead would sigh and go to bed early? Remember how you patted the cushion on the new couch I haven't been on in three years since I was trained (read:beaten) to not go on it, and told me to come up? I thought it was too good to be true - and it was. You neglected to tell Big Red about it and I see it was for good reason. Maybe she'd have been smacking you in the ass, instead of me, if you had.

So consider this your pink slip. There will be no more cuddling, no more excitement to see you when you get home regardless of the time elapsed, just a cold steely stare as I lay on the floor. And our nightly walks? Well, January can be really cold, my friend, and I have quite the natural protection from it. You, on the other hand, might want to bundle up since I'm anticipating some constipation issues regardless of how many times you tell me to "hurry the hell up".

Seriously, dude. Not cool. Not. Cool.

Reilly

PS - I have included a picture of our better days so you can see what you're missing. I will not be fooled again.