Congratulations on Your Tremendous Success!

Congratulations! As of today you will have achieved remarkable success in your chosen field, the design and manufacturing of formal clothing for large breed dogs. You’ve sacrificed decades of your life, two marriages and countless failed relationships all for your desire to appropriately garb dogs that could rip a person’s throat out at a variety of events, from boat shows to award balls.

It has been a long, thankless road, but it was so worth it to see German Shepherds the world over humbled by your simple, elegant creations. However, tomorrow your wife is going to leave you.

See, here’s the thing. We know you like dogs a lot. Like, a lot. Most people can gather it from your occupation. But what most people don’t know yet is that you’re obsessed with clothing dogs because you really enjoy fucking them.

We’re not here to judge you. As long as the dog doesn’t mind (and Patches doesn’t – we checked) there’s really nothing wrong with it, unless you use a major religion as your moral compass. But your wife isn’t going to agree with us.

When she catches you balls deep in your family Golden Lab (your partner and lover of the past eight years) she’s going to flip shit, grab the kids, and extort the living fuck out of you while living with her dad in Cabo.

Eventually she’ll just divorce you and the story will come out. Your wife will have long since become tired of living alone, and she’ll want to marry her tennis instructor, Doug, who is a really nice guy on an unrelated note.

During the proceedings her reason for seeking divorce will come out, and you won’t even try to deny it. You’ll feel lighter for the admission, as if you’ve finally stopped living a lie. The judge will grant her a generous share of your property and earnings so that she can change her name and give your kids a semblance of a normal life.

Once your bizarre fetish becomes public knowledge you’ll find that your friends and relations will no longer return your calls. You’ll become a true pariah, living alone and unvisited in your massive mansion with Patches. Even your children won’t return your calls. You’ll be devastated, but Patches will continue to lend you emotional support, licking your palms and making eye contact during.

Oddly enough your clothing industry will be almost completely unaffected. Turns out most people buying designer dog clothing don’t really care how fucked up the guy who makes it is. You’ll lose a few more prudish customers who have the same fetish as you and fear being “outed,” but mostly your business will continue to thrive.

You’ll comfortably make child support payments and live a simple life of seclusion, releasing new designs every few months to continued accolade until Patches dies. With her death the rock of your life over the last fifteen years will have vanished, and you’ll feel more devastated than when your wife ripped your children out of your life.

We’d say find a new dog, but Patches truly was your soulmate. She can’t be replaced. So don’t try. You were lucky to have her when you did. Build a respectable statue in her memory and try to move on. She’d want it that way.

Oh, and congratulations on your tremendous success. None of us buy dog clothing, but apparently it’s quite a booming industry if it managed to keep you afloat through one of the most public divorces in recent memory