Happy Birthday to Me
Happy birthday to me – and of course to my brothers and sisters. Today is our eleventh birthdays. In dog terms that makes us about 77. Honestly, some days I feel like I’m still a puppy, then I lift an eyelid and the deception goes away. Once I start moving, I’m quite convinced that the puppy inside me is not going to be making an appearance.
I don’t count my life in material possessions. There are no notches on my bed post of conquests over the years. I measure it more in operation scars and piles of medication. But there’s a good side too. I measure it in love and devotion too. My devotion to Mum and Dad and their devotion to me. When I look at it like that, that far outweighs all the difficulties of the last few years.
Cooking afternoon
The best bit of my birthday is the fact that Mum is having a cooking afternoon and I’m helping. Obviously, I won’t be able to have the chocolate she is using, but I can lick out the cream pot. I know it’s bad for me, and I’m only getting it because it’s my birthday. I’m hoping for the odd blueberry too. Tomorrow will be even more fun as there will be a nice joint of meat to help with once it’s cooked.
Before all that, I’m going to try going out for a little walk while there’s no one around. I’m hoping if we don’t meet anyone or any dogs that I might rather enjoy it. It’s a shame I can’t go with my half-brother, Salvo as when he’s there I forgot to be concerned. Hopefully it will be ok. I’ll let you know how I get on – paws crossed.
Love and licks
Wilma
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