Letting Butter Talk (Part 7)


Julie, there's something I've been meaning to tell you. I've been trying to figure out the best way to say it all week but I'm just not sure. So I'm just going to say it.

I want your friends to come back.

I love you and all. I always will. I mean, you're my mom. You saved me from those smelly dogs and those smelly cages. And you feed me way more people food than dad does. And spend way more time with me during the day. (Even though he does have you beat at night.)

But the thing is, your friends are way more fun.

When your friends were here, I didn't have just one woman petting me and chasing me around the living room. I had five. And I didn't have just one woman saying how cute I was. I had five.

Sometimes, they even let me climb onto their laps. And I had more people to sniff. And sniff them I did. It was awesome.

And don't tell dad this, but I like them way more than his friends. When his friends come over, they always go one of two places: to stand out by the grill or down into the basement. Every time. It gets kinda boring. But your friends were all over. They'd sit at the table and pet me and sit on the floor and pet me and sit in the living room and pet me. And we even all hung out in the guest room and whoever wasn't looking at pictures would pet me. Oh, and did I mention they'd pet me?

And they laughed a lot too. I like that. Laughing is great.

But now they're gone.


Won't you tell them to please come back?

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