I am too loved.

No such thing, you say! Love is good, how can there be too much, you say! If you have too much love, you're simply a lucky dog, you say! Ahhh, you say all those things because you are not an 18 pound beagle who has no ability to speak her mind, save for a bark here and there. And even when I do that, people coo, and say "how cute! Listen to her!" Well, unfortunately, I can't say anything -- not anything you'd understand anyway. It's certainly not possible for me to push my little digits down, only to leave one furry digit up solo, giving you the bird. And that's fortunate, for you all. Because if I could say something to you, or make any sort of human-like gestures, I would say this first. Stop dressing me up. I am not a toy. I come with my own coat, and in fact, I'm even double-coated. Since my kind has been around since the 1800's, we managed to evolve a bit, and my coat is so damn good, that I'm practically rain-repellant. But yet you (and that's the collective you, as all of you are guilty of this) think that despite my evolved double-coat, I still need to be dressed up. And then you do things like this to me.

Here I am, an American Apparel model. And like American Apparel models, I am also underage, pubescent, scantily-clad, generally sweaty and dirty, and provacatively posed:

Here's a Mexico City American Apparel employee (no kidding, it's from their site) - who's sexier?:

This is my Martha Stewart poncho. Yes, I too should be imprisoned for wearing this. At least her's hid her ass:

Here's Martha, your hero (you love to hate her, but you really just wish that she would stop making you looked so damn messy and like you can't throw a decent dinner party):

Look ma! I'm a pimp! Aren't you proud?:

And Ice T, because he used to be a pimp and clearly, he still rolls like one!:

Folks, all I'm asking for is my dignity.

P.S. Please don't be confused, I do, in fact, love getting gifts. I accept foods of all sort, belly rubs, and gift certificates for belly rubs (is this my wishlist, or Joe's?). But please, no Christmas sweaters with dogs on it, or special needlepoint pillows with a baying beagle on it. I am NOT what I wear.