Dear Goddamned Dog,
I do understand that the ocean took you by surprise, but trust me, you will recover.
I’d like to remind you that it was your choice to stop, look at me and then ignore me and run in the opposite direction when I called. Though the wind on the beach was fairly strong, I’m pretty sure I heard laughter as you bolted away full speed, ears flapping in the breeze, while your sister and I looked on.
I’ll give you this: I’ve never seen anything stop as fast as you did when that first wave hit.
Neither Betty nor I believed you had to be rescued from four inches of water, but you seemed so pathetic that we came and got you. Please note that this is not how recalls usually work.
You are from the Alps. This implies that ocean water on a May afternoon is likely not too cold for you, but I have now wrapped you in two towels, as the first one’s dampness seemed to distress you, and Betty has made sure you are once again presentable by grooming you as you recover on the couch. Still, you seem perturbed.
Perhaps this will act as incentive to come next time I call.
Love,
Your Person