Birthday Dog

Further proof that I am ridiculous: this week marked Flutie's 1st birthday and we "celebrated" with a tiny doggie-sized cake from the dog bakery (peanut butter cake with all natural yogurt icing) and a new stuffed toy. I know, I am totally one of those dog owners. Look, I know he doesn't know the difference, but it was more for me than anything else. I have worked darn hard for this dog over the last 8 months and its fun, and even meaningful, for me to do little, silly things like this to mark his life and its place in mine. That, and I have a rooted instinct to "mother" something now that I'm not a nanny any more and don't yet have my own children. And call me crazy but when we gave him his toy and then a huge hunk of a new treat, I think the wheels were turning enough in his bitty brain to think "hey, this feels kind of special". Judge for yourself.

New toy and cake - the toy is extra special because he is no longer "allowed" to have stuffed toys since he destroys them, stuffing all over the house and inner squeaker chewed to bits, in half an hour flat. It's such a waste, but also his favorite thing ever so a birthday exception was made.

Already plotting its swift destruction. Sure enough, 20 minutes later the little lamb was "dead".

"Haaaappy birthday, dear Fluuuuutie..."

Sweet delicious dog-cake. He offered to share, I politely declined.

Oh, my sweet little dog. You're the most sweet-natured, cuddlesome and affection ball of energy in the canine world. The past eight months have been a big adjustment for both of us, but you've gotten used to my strange human ways and humored my efforts to bend your will to mine with intermittent aplomb. There have been many moments, more than I am proud to admit, that I wasn't sure I could do this, the whole dog thing, and questioned if I could be the responsible, patient human you needed. But every week now I notice you growing up more and more into a truly obedient and loyal companion, a real member of our family. The infrequent instances that I still ask myself "what was I thinking getting this dog!?"are now far, far outnumbered by all the times I look at you and wonder "how did I, and how could I, ever live without him?". One recent afternoon, when some of life's frustrations and fears overcame me and I collapsed on the sofa in tears, I was startled (but should not have been) by your tongue licking my face in consolation and solidarity. You sensed my angst and stayed right by my side, head tucked under my chin, nuzzling me back to good cheer. Dogs are so incredible like that, the only animal bred and living to serve as a companion to we lonely, overwrought humans. Man's best friend, and this woman's too. My goofy, adorable dingo: happy birthday. They say you could live to be fifteen years old, what may be the best fifteen years of my life. Most certainly the snuggliest.