A Dog’s DayJanuary 23, 2011 at 11:03 pm | Posted in The Pups | 17 Comments
Tags: Birthday, Challenges, Children, Dogs, Family, Food, Fun, Life, Milestones, Parenting
Today, you are 7. 7!
It seems like just yesterday when we first saw you, a squirmy, fuzzy ball of fluff, all tongue and ears and tail. And those eyes, those gentle, giant eyes that implored us to cuddle you closer. And maybe share the couch or our pillows with you, if we didn’t mind.
Those first few weeks, I thought I’d never get a good night’s sleep again. Oh, how you whimpered! You missed your pack, the familiar smells, the comfort of your furry family. And, oh, how I tired of waking up and immediately cleaning puppy pee. (Yes, it is funny, isn’t it, that I’ve spent the last four years, give or take, not sleeping through the night and cleaning up someone else’s pee? You were good practice, my sweet pup.)
As the months passed, you grew. And grew. And grew. People soon confused you with a pony. But you remain convinced you were a lap-dog, no matter what the scale said.
As you got older, you also got attached to us. You fretted when we left you home alone. You ate books. And pillows. And remote controls. And small tools. And baskets. And so much more that I’ve blocked out to save my sanity.
These days, you’re pretty low-key. I mean, low-key for you. You don’t eat too many things that aren’t dog food, peanut-buttery sandwich crusts, or petrified Cheerios. There is your weakness for the occasional pile of mulch. But only for the fiber, of course.
You play fourth fiddle now, behind the three human children we care for. (Hey, you still rank higher than the cat.) You don’t get as many walks. And you’ve been exiled from the bed, the couch, and all the other soft, snuggly places you were once allowed to sleep.
But you’re still our sweet pup. There’s nothing quite as comforting as all 100 pounds of you (okay, let’s be honest, all 120 pounds) curled up on our feet. The deep, scary bark you use to frighten UPS guys and Jehovah’s Witnesses. The way you run through the house knocking over decorative vases and small children to greet us. And that soft, fluffy face, always ready to share a hug or a bag of popcorn at the end of a tough day.
We love you, Rock Star. Happy Birthday!