Dear Rex: Since Dogs Can Understand Words, Tell Me — Why’d You Shit On The Floor, Buddy?

Oh don’t give me that face. You know what you did! The whole family does! You shit on the floor — again. I just don’t get why. Every time you do your little dance that signals to me and Jane and the kids that you have to do the dookie-doo we open that screen door faster than lightning. Heck, sometimes we even carry your chocolate (lab) ass down the porch and onto the green for you since the idea of pooping seems to immobilize you, shutting your brain down to just one thought. That being said, I think you’re bullshitting us here with your bull-sized shit. I just read the other day that dogs can differentiate between words and tone. So, since dogs can understand words, tell me — why’d you shit on the floor, buddy?

You obviously must know at this point that what you’re doing is bad. We all become visibly and audibly upset every time you drop a potential landmine on the floor. Thankfully yours are equipped with a warning system of smell that can sometimes alert us to their presence. Other times the carpet muffles the odor and we become aware of them through the unwilling sense of touch, usually with our toes. It’s awful, and it’s happened enough times for you to know that when we use the words “Goddamnit Rex, No!” or “Shit Rex, bad dog!!” or the guttural “Aghh Rex why don’t you poop outside?! ” that we aren’t doing it because we’re happy.

We’re all a little lost, to be honest. Our family spoils you rotten! When the kids get home from school it’s Rex time until bedtime: belly rubs for days and never-ending-petting-sessions. I can barely get Amelia and Louis to read two pages of A Separate Peace because all they want to do is play with you. Although, I’m sure you’re not a fan when they dress you up and put bows in your hair, but I’d say you know that’s the price you pay for their love, and you’re such a good dog to them. Plus, Jane takes you on a passenger seat truck rides at least twice a day when she goes off to sell something from her metal workshop, and sometimes more than that because her iron-wrought Disney princess lawn ornaments are selling like hotcakes. She really is quite talented.

Is it me? Is it my fault? I’ll clear up any worries you might have right now: I love you bud, I really love ya. Ever since I got back from Fallujah you’ve been a godsend to me. Obviously Jane and the kids do all they can but there’s just something about the unconditional love of a dog, and the fact that I can tell you everything, really pour out my heart to you, and you just sit there and listen. You don’t judge me for what I did, for the things I regret, for the things I can never take back, for the people I’ve hurt, for the people whose lives I’ve taken, for the children I’ve –

Oh…Oh God…No.

That’s why you shit on the floor.

I’m a monster.