R E S P E C T Find out what it means to me

I'm very perturb with my Hu-Man folks. They have been locking all the doors and making sure everything is secure, because a robbery happened at a house up the street in the middle of the day. Some girl got her iPod stolen. Oh no! What is she going to do without? Maybe she could at least pay attention to where she's walking so she can pet me instead of singing along to Paris Hilton's new single. Did my folks just figure out that we live in the bad section of town, because they are cheap. (I want a doggy door. I'm not asking for much) Our street’s nickname is Crack Hill. For clarification, I live in a very small town, so the definition of "bad" is a stolen iPod.
Where was I ... Oh yes I'm perturbed.
My folks do not need to take all these precautions, because I'm here. GUARD DOG. What about those words do you not understand? I'm a big furious black dog with a thundering bark & a venomous bite. Who will mess with me? I don't think so.
Anyways I've written a letter to my folks:

Dear Ma & Dad,

You guys do not respect me.
I know my plate is full with taking over the world, groundhogs, plumbers, my blog, patrolling /regulating my hood, sleeping, eating, & barking at Poles.
My main duty is to protect & guard the house.
Y'll are assuming I can't do that.
Y'll are dissing me.
Y'll just can't comprehend my skills.

I'm out of here. I mean it this time. I'm going to Grandmas’.

Sincerely,
Cash

P.S.
I took all the Peanut Butter.

LONG LIVE THE REVOLUTION!