A letter

Horse. Outside.

Dear children,

I am as you know a little older than I used to be. A little frailer and somewhat slower and quieter too. This does not mean I don't know what I want. I does not mean either that you should not know what I want although that does seem to be the case at the moment.

When I sit by the door, it means I want to go out.
When I sit by my food dish, I want feeding.
When I silently shout, I am angry.
When I wag my tail, I am alive.
At all other times assume I want a brush or a fuss.

I am grateful for your kind hospitality but don't let it go to your heads.

Yours truly
Mr Pushhkin.

PS. Please note the spelling of my name.
PPS. Please no more pictures of me. Use a snap of a horse of something.