Eulogy: Beloved Koty, Worlds Most Expensive Fucking Dog Ever.

She cared for you better than any dog could have ever hoped for. When you needed a new sweater, you got it. When you needed new toys, you got it. When you needed the best food money could buy, you got it. When you needed surgery to remove cysts, you got it. When you needed teeth pulled and new doggie dentures, you got it. When you needed doggie psychiatric counseling and depression medication, you got it. And when you needed doggie deep tissue massages, mani/pedi and facials, guess what, you got that too.

When you peed on something, she replaced it. When you yacked on something, she replaced it. When you tore shit up, she sure as fuck, replaced it all just to watch you do it again.
You got everything you ever wanted and even some shit, you didn't want, but you got it anyway, just because, you were the beloved Koty, worlds most expensive fucking dog ever.

Your vet bills alone, totaled around $10,000, I imagine, when all was said and done. I have no clue as to the amount she paid in replacement items and specialty gifts, but I bet it was a lot. There was always something new you needed to have; there was always something wrong with you and she always fixed it.
That's a lot of fucking bones, Koty. You knew it. With your smug little face, you knew it.
If you had ever walked about the house shitting everywhere, oozing puss from sores unknown, slobbering rabies infecting the children, coughing up blood, harassing her husband for no reason, she would have fixed you right up after euthanizing the kids, getting a divorce, burning the toxic house and buying a new one, no matter what the cost.
That's how much, she loved you Koty. Worlds most expensive fucking dog ever.

You watched 14 other dogs and 8 other cats get bought and given away. They didn't even get unique names, Koty. Just, numbers. Because, who fucking cared. They weren't beloved Koty. Cat #4 was a good enough name for an animal that wouldn't be around for long.

The golden dog.
The dog of the hour.
The dog of the fucking century.
THE KOTY.

She loved you, dear Koty.
She even paid to have you cremated and your remains now sit on the mantle. And even though you hated my guts, Koty, more than any other animal I have ever met on this planet, I am going to suggest she create a shrine to your golden doggie ass. Because, even in death beloved Koty, why should you not remain the worlds most expensive fucking dog ever. It is your title. It is your honor. It is who you were, are and will forever be.

RIP, Koty, Worlds Most Expensive Fucking Dog Ever.
You, were loved.

Dear Local VW Sales Department

Thank you very much for email blasting me useless offers for brand new cars at enormously discounted rates. Actually, there is not a day that goes by that I do not pray for a lightning strike, a flood, a meteor from the sky to wipe my VW Bug off the planet. I hate it more than roaches, Satan, alligators, sharks, cancer, AIDS, tacks and my elementary school bully all rolled into one. Yup. I have never hated anything more.
So no. No I would not like to take advantage of the fabulous limited time offers counteracted by your inflated prices for sub par plastic cars that fall apart at the seams before they accumulate 60,000 miles.
I hope to buy a bike and start riding that to work because to watch this vehicle disintegrate (which I can only assume will happen considering its rate of deterioration thus far) in my driveway, without another single mile being put on it, THAT, sir, would please me more than the newest new car you could ever hope to sell me.

Best Regards,
The Wood Rabbit

letters

To my Favorite Sushi Chef,
My mouth is tiny. Ok, that was a lie. My mouth is as large as a Mack truck. Your fucking rolls are still too big for me to eat sometimes. My cheeks should not look like I am a hamster storing. So I am speaking up for the little mouthed women on dates looking like an ass because of you. Stop chopping the rolls like we are all Linda Lovelace.
 Oh, and your head scarf doesn't match your happari. Do something about that my man. It would also be less creepy if you acknowledged my smile. I see you more than my mother.
Best Regards,
the wood rabbit

To my Favorite Egyptian Store Clerk,
I do not want to date you. Wooing me will never consist of giving me free fountain drinks. Maybe gas, but I never see you offer that shit up. Did you know I was 34? I am. None of my friends would ever want to work as a cashier here. They all stopped working in fast food joints and as dishwashers after college. I also think you should stop charging me different prices for the same item every time I come to your store. If crackers are $3.99 on Monday, inflation does not dictate they are $4.99 on Wednesday. You can still call me pretty though.
Best Regards,
the wood rabbit

To my Favorite Living Space,
It would be super cool if you learned how to clean yourself. I am not trying to coerce you in any sort of way; I understand the inanimate problem here. Im just sayin is all. We can overcome this together. It would be awesome times a panda.
I will be watching,
the wood rabbit

To my Favorite Kittencat,
You are a few short hops from going into Detox little miss. No more catnip for you. I will help you through the withdrawals, just retract the claws. Glass cannot be run through, lets stop banging our head into the door my love. I do dig on your back flips though. Practice that shit up circus cat, we can go on the road.
If you knock one more thing down off the table/mantle/dresser/nightstand/counter while looking directly at me and talking in your cute as fuck kittencat way I just may punch you in the head. Stop using my makeup brushes. Stay off the keyboard. 3am is not playtime. Meowing will not always get you your own way. Try and not scare guests by running Mach 5 across them. One last thing: Do not pounce me while I am masturbating. Not fucking cool. Not at all.
I fucking love you kitten,
the wood rabbit

addressing

Men: Come to terms with the wood, bang it out if needed.
Women: I have nothing at all to say to you. Sorry, check back tomorrow.
Children: Go outside and play, you bastards.
Animals: Sorry we fucked it all up. So. Fucking. Sorry.
Plants: I wish you could all be as cool as the asparagus.
Government: You should be ashamed of yourselves, get your nooses.
Religion: Keep to yourself, not everyone wants to be slimed.
Science: Way to go. Keep being fucking awesome.
Troglodytes: Please, use a condom.
Industry: Seize upon all the tiger has to offer you. Exponential growth potential.
Internet: You contain aardvarks and the Z Machine. Badass squared.
Creativity: You help me to imagine new ways in which to use my uterus.
Oral Sex: There is not a goddamn thing you can't solve.
Books: You open doors, for those that open yours.

Oh Internet

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Happy Bloody Valentines Day

Dear Cupid,
You bastard.
There is an arrow sticking out of my ass and I am sure you are to blame.
All this time and you STILL haven't taken Archery 101? COME ON!

Dear Lonely Hearts Club Band,
Shut up. You rule like... 364 days of the year.
BACK OFF.

Dear Puppies and Flowers Crowd,
Don't make me fucking hurl today.
That was your warning.
I have an arrow and I am not afraid to use it.

Dear Chocolate,
I hate you so much.
Now, jump in my mouth.

Dear Friends,
If nothing else....
Everybody Wang Chung tonight.


Happy Bloody Valentines Day.