Tilly, you have a real problem. It's called SNORING. You nearly saw the floor in half with your snorting wuffles. You wake me up every night with your doggy dreams, and even when I moan your name, pleading you to stop, you don't listen. Because who could hear my desperate pleas for sleep over your loud snores?
Regardless, my sweet Till-bug, I would walk you from here to the Moon, buy you a million pounds of doggy treats, rub your belly for hours on end, let you sit on the couch even when you're not supposed to, and let you lick me for three minutes straight if I could see you wiggle your butt when I get home from work, every day, for the rest of my life.
You are our dog. The best dog. And I love you. Snores and all.
Regardless, my sweet Till-bug, I would walk you from here to the Moon, buy you a million pounds of doggy treats, rub your belly for hours on end, let you sit on the couch even when you're not supposed to, and let you lick me for three minutes straight if I could see you wiggle your butt when I get home from work, every day, for the rest of my life.
You are our dog. The best dog. And I love you. Snores and all.