Hmm, where to start…
You and I have an arranged marriage of sorts. Our relationship was forced by your father, whose heart knows no limits when it comes to abandoned animals. I know over time I’ll grow to love you and someday you’ll be too old, fat, and arthritic to cause any mischief. So, until that day, I’m going to love you by way of sweet talk, let you snuggle up on my lap, let you eat all the ice cubes your heart desires, and accept I don’t really need the many items you will chew up over the coming years. Just, please, leave my shoes alone. I really hate shoe shopping.
Happy first birthday, Buck!