... as dictated, via Skype
Dear Mr Kelly... RK... Ryan... Dad? I'm not really sure what to call you. (Editor's Note: At this point, the interviewee made some sort of pant-y slurpy sound. Interpret as you will.)
Can we talk? I feel like we need to talk. Honestly, I had high hopes about this relationship.
Maybe I should start over.
This is Larry. Your dog. The one you abandon for weeks at a time to go traipse around the world and be fawned over. We need to have a chat. Not about the abandoning.. it's really pretty sweet at your folks' house. I'm good with all that.
It's something else... I'm a Boston Terrier. We are a small breed - in stature -- but just barely escape the fate of a purse-dog by looking a little bit like someone smashed our faces in with a 2 x 4. That's not an insult, you understand. It's that or "purse dog." We'll take the smashed face. Smashed face makes us a MAN DOG. It's cool.
So, you understand I had high hopes. By all appearances, you seemed to have all the necessary parts to make Man/Man-Dog relationship work to its optimum peak.
It started out well... but then, things began to change. I should have clued into it earlier... but I thought it was just one of your weird phases. Like when you were into Spice Girls. Or Star Wars.
Bad example. Bad example.
I'm starting to question that whole "necessary parts" thing. First, it was a Celtics jersey. That wasn't so bad... I thought it was a one-time thing. "He could change!" I told myself. Then, it was another. And another. There was a Yoda costume. Seriously, what is wrong with you? Are you 12?
A coat. (I have a coat. It's called fur.) Shoes. Shoes. SHOES. SHOES!!!!!!!! I have more clothes than you do, for god's sake.
I am a DOG. I am a MAN DOG. MAN DOGs do not get dressed up! And for all that's good and holy, certainly not in shoes. Look, I know you love me -- and because I know that, I'm coming to you.
They are taking away my Man Dog Card. You should hear the mockery at the park. You think that's friendly barking from the other dogs?? I assure you, it is not. YOU MADE ME INTO A CALENDAR. You try living that down at Poker Night!!!!!
I'm sorry, I'm starting to get emotional. It's just... It's just a little embarrassing, that's all. And by "a little embarrassing," I mean, "DEAR GOD, MAKE IT STOP!!!!!!"
I am not above chewing all your basketball trophies. Or... you know... the one.
*Interviewee sighs.. long long whimpering sigh*
Look, I will see you when you get home from Australia. Any souvenirs better the heck be something I can chew on or there will be hell to pay. Running shoes can easily substitute. You've been warned.