Sigh.

Dear Humphrey,

Dude. I understand that it’s raining and that your 100lb butt is truly a delicate flower whose main skill appears to be slurping humans when we least expect it, but did you have to poop right in front of the open door? Also, what possible canine joy could have come from managing to land that chihuahua-sized log perfectly centered on the extension cord?

I think I might hate you.

Love,

FoodLady.

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