Daft Wullie Writes

A letter “written” by our goofy dog to our second son, while he was serving a mission for our church.

Dear the One With the Giant Bed that I Loves Very Much But that Went Away for All the Long Days,

The Mother One keeps making the words on the computer and she calls it “writing to Benjamin”.  So, I thought I would try some making of the words, too.  I will tell you about my walk because walks are the bestest.  Except for food.  Food is also the bestest.  And belly rubs.  And my bone.  And eating socks.  Mmmm.  Socks.  Tasty and nutritious.

But, on my walk there were no socks, which was a great disappointment to me.  But, I did not only have the disappointments.  I also had the happys because I got to see my friend, the big black dog that I do love.  I heard the Mother One say she is a giant schnauzer but I think that maybe the Mother One was only sneezing.  Me and the big black dog are best friends, probably.  Or, maybe we are dating.  It is unclear.  I know she also has the happys about me because she growls while she bites my neck.

After she went away and we walked some more, I seed a delicious lump of pulpy mush.  The Mother One sayed “Off”.  And, by “Off” I know she means, “Eat that delicious thing up quickly before someone can stop you.  Probably the someone will be me.”  So, I obeyed her right away because I am the obeyingest boy ever.  And I grabbed it right up in my mouth but the Mother One was totally wrong.  It was not a delicious thing.  It tasted like worm insides covered in mud.  (I do not want to tell you why I knows about the tastes of worm insides covered in mud because my tummy does not like that story).

So, I spitted that stuff right out on the sidewalk and I said, “That was not a pile of delicious mush.  It was worm insides covered in mud disguised as a delicious pile of mush.  Next time you should be more careful, Mother One.”  And by “I said”, I mean, “I thought those things in my very own head.”  Because every time I say real words with my voice the Mother One says, “Yes!  Wullie.  Good boy, Wullie.  You’re alright Wullie.  You’re so good, Wullie.” And she never even listens to me at all.  And even when I am not alright at all she keeps going and going and going until I just stop the talking so I do not have to listen to her happy little “You’re alright Wullie” any more.

But I says the words in my head anyway.

Sincerely,

Daft Wullie