Ginger to Maggie, July 3, 2012

This is New York. Sometimes you get splashed.

Yo Maggie,

What’s this I smell about you pissing on my hydrant? Every half-wit beagle east of Second Avenue knows the hydrant on the corner of First and 72nd is my stall. I’ve been releasing my urine on that spot since you were just a twinkle in the eye of some mutt.

I hear there’s a nice little pile of garbage at 73rd Street and York that’s unclaimed. Why you don’t you do your business there? Or do you think you’re too good for that?

Your butt stinks, you know.



In the pantheon of letters from animals to other animals, dogs are surprisingly under-represented. Other common house pets, especially cats, write letters in roughly the same proportion as humans. One cat, Fluffy Whitaker, has been compared to Thomas Jefferson in the sheer volume of letters she wrote. Like Jefferson, most of her letters were about freedom and tuna. Among all animals, the Amazonian Tree Frog is widely considered the most active letter-writing species, followed closely by the Kangaroo.

Dogs, however, tend to stick to phone conversations for communication, along with butt-sniffing and peeing on everything. Posh dogs, however, do write letters with some regularity, and any dog writing from the Upper East Side of Manhattan would certainly know his or her way around a pen. Of course, even these upper class dogs are preoccupied with mundane dog matters. The letter above is typical of a contemporary canine missive, and most other dog letters never discuss anything more interesting than presidential politics and reality television.

Ginger is an unusually snippy dog, which probably comes from being a massive Chocolate Lab named “Ginger.” Most dogs are cordial with each other, especially compared to other pets. Fish, for example, have been responsible for some of the most vile hate letters ever written (though mostly about kelp). Ginger, however, has apparently been having a tough week, and getting her fire hydrant peed on by a terrier put her over the edge. Immediately after writing this letter, she ripped up a magazine and pooped on the sofa. Bad dog, Ginger. We know you’re reading this.


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