Dear Dog,
I realize you need to go to the bathroom at 5am, and beg to be taken out. At this point I'm sure you must know, after 7 years of the same, that NOTHING will be jumping out of the bushes onto you in the dark. So, if you could not try to jump into my arms, at odd moments, leaving me holding 90 pounds of quaking dog, lying on top of me sprawled in the middle of the road, I'd appreciate it.
OH, and if you could refrain from trying to play tug O'war with the full poop bag, I'll be happy to play tup o'war with an appropriate toy back at home.

Thank you,
Road Rash Rosie (otherwise known as "Mom")