Apologies-to-our-pets

To Every Dog, Cat, Guinea Pig, Pot-Bellied Pig, Mini-Pony, Pygmy Goat, Parakeet and Mexican Rosy Boa:

On behalf of all sports fans, I apologize for any and all behavior you find upsetting over the next six months. Please understand, it’s football season.

The yelling and screaming, it’s not directed at you. I know you don’t quite understand why we holler at the bright square box, jumping up excitedly only to crash back down on the sofa defeated, the pain on our face obviously causing the pain on yours. We are not actually upset over anything (arguably) important, so do not be alarmed at our distress. When your owners get into heated debates over what Chip Kelly’s uptempo offense will really do for the Philadelphia Eagles, they’re not really mad at each other, so you don’t need to hide in the bathtub until the argument stops. Train your ears to understand that the words “coach’s challenge”, “bubble screen” and “3rd and 30″ are what we’re upset with, not your sweet little face and tail. There is no reason for you to chew through our sock drawer stressed out that we no longer love you.

When we slap our hands together in the air, we’re not hurting each other. We are actually celebrating something good that happened on the bright square box that you cannot see. Or maybe you can see the screen, I’m not really sure how your eyeballs work. Maybe you can see the bright square box screen and are actually Chargers fan with nothing to celebrate, which in that case, I am doubly sorry for your duress. 

I can understand why it is confusing to you why we spend so much time with the bright square box when we could be taking you to the park, giving you belly rubs or just generally spending time outside. Just think of the bright square box as our treat for the week. I know you understand the word “treat”, so know that we’ve been good working all week — to keep you in kibble! —  and deserve it. When we say, “five more minutes” when you start whining for walk, we’re going by the play clock. That five minutes could be ten minutes, which in your mind is another full hour. Sorry about that, we just need to know if our third running back in fantasy football managed to score another 2.3 points before the half.

Let me also apologize now for leaving you alone with a nacho platter on the coffee table at some point during the season. Every fiber of your furry little body will resist for as long as possible, and it’s not your fault melted cheese smells so good. I know the conflict in your tiny little brain will be so overwhelming when you finally give in and eat the entire dish of chips, salsa and guacamole in three bites while our back is turned, and I know how painful it will be later on for your body to deal with the extra jalapeños in your system. Believe me, cleaning up after you is just as bad as being your intestines in this unfortunate scenario.

I’m sorry for the Chiefs collar you have to wear, the Terrible Towel handkerchief wrapped around your neck, the ill-fitting Dawg Pound pet jersey and the embarrassing Jacksonville Jaguars leash we walk you on, and yes, the miniature helmet we put on your head.

I also apologize for our friends’ regrettable behavior. We’re sorry if they take your favorite spot on the couch and then proceed to sit there for the next twelve hours, farting in your space. I’m sorry if they scared you when they spiked the remote during the Broncos-Ravens game. If we’re being completely honest, it scared us a little bit too. Don’t really blame you for going and peeing on their shoes in the front hallway, but pooping on them too goes a little too far.

Just know we still love you and this will all be over in the next six months. We’ll fetch you from your hiding spot in the back closet when football season is over and we’re back to our calmer selves, only 4.2 animal years from now.

Love,

Your Human Guardians

PS We promise to stop asking if you know Barkevious Mingo by November, December at the latest.