I wanted this chair so bad :(

To Whom It May Concern:

Sorry to hear about your current problems with your girlfriend (Women - can't live with them with a sheep throne, can't live without them). Having said that, it seems as though your misfortune could potentially place me in a favorable position of acquiring your very luxurious, surprisingly palatial sheep throne as the centerpiece of my study/game room.

I come from a long line of animal lovers (traditional laws notwithstanding, my great-uncle would have probably already married and divorced several breeds of horse and one Rottweiler by now). I grew up on a farm with five cows, six dogs, four hens, and enough stray cats that you could scarcely peel out of our driveway without hitting one that was using your car as a shade against the hot summer sun. When I was seven, my best friend and partner-in-crime Reggie passed away. A Saint Bernard, I would use Reggie's great height and stature to hoist myself up and into my parent's liquor/medication cabinet. Laughing together, we would polish off our findings while I would tell him stories about the colors in the room, or where my parents might be, or whatever. Just the usual kid stuff. Occasionally, depending on what we'd shared, he would voice his opinion as well (though he was dog of few words). Anyway, when Reggie and I weren't playing amateur chemists in my father's den, he loved to chase our neighbors sheep. He would always cause a ruckus with the young "kids" (baby sheep) and I would continually be scolded by my parents for letting him off of his leash, but dammit, he loved chasing those sheep, and if my best friend wanted to chase young sheep till their exhaustion, picking them up and carrying off the weakest into the shrubs to nurture him, then I was going to let him have his fun. After his death, my parents could hardly console me. It was my first brush dealing with death, and I wasn't sure how to handle such grown-up feelings towards something. I hardly ate the following two weeks, resulting in my teacher calling and reporting my parents to Child Protective Services (they made it out ok haha). After about a month of self-debilitating anxiety and willful seclusion, I returned home from school one day to find Reggie, standing with his old familiar glow, right there in the living room. My mom had dug him up and had him sent to a taxidermist (who admittedly did the best he could for what he had to work with, it seems dogs decay MUCH faster than other animals). From that day forward, Reggie and I have been inseparable, with him functioning as a nightstand next to my bed. His coat has been surprisingly resilient, surviving many spills and nostalgic riding sessions around the house and neighborhood. Alas, it seems as though Reggie's structure is finally beginning to give in to time, something that has become increasingly noticeable within the past few weeks. I've decided to move him into my study space to provide myself with a sense of companionship while I work. As I stumbled upon your ad looking for potential suitors for your chair, I was suddenly reminded of the joy with which Reggie used to have while chasing the neighboring sheep. I know that he would love to be chasing them again, and this is about the closest he will ever get. Knowing the joy that will fill Reggie's eyes when he sees me typing on the chair, I am positive that my productivity will also increase. With your help, I think that you could make Reggie the happiest stuffed dog in Lawrence. Thank you for your time and consideration.