It is the dog’s ‘birthday’.

Since she was a rescue puppy, we don’t know the actual date of her birth.  But, like most things in life, it works just as well if we just pick a day and stick with it.  So this is the dog’s special day.  Because every day isn’t a dog’s special day…. wait a minute, why are we doing this again?

Oh yeah, because we love that dog.

In years past, I baked her special doggie birthday muffins with bacon.  It turns out there is a medication for that.  I do not plan to bake her anything this year.

The muffin recipe idea came from an actual cookbook.  I think I paid money for that book, although the purchase would have been in the name of my cookbook collection, not with plans for extensive usage.  I did make a few things, back when I was in the first-dog-honeymoon phase.  Then some of the recipes called for beef liver liquified in a blender, but I just couldn’t go there.   Just as a note:  although there are many main dish options in this cookbook — ‘Gobble Down Goulash’ and ‘Pawsitively Pleasing Pasta’, for example —  there is no Kitten Pot Pie, which I expect, if given a menu she could read,  is the very entrée Kenzie would choose.

But who am I to suppose such a conclusion?  Let’s let her tell us what she really wants.

*

My Perfect Day

by The Dog

Sleep on (or in) the master bed with Big D, my head on Jane’s pillow.

Wake up to the aroma of the kids’ breakfast cooking downstairs — time to check out what the Little One dropped so far.

Do yoga stretches:  down dogggggggg, uuuuuuuuup dog…  ahhhh.  Roll over for belly rubs from Big D.

Wander downstairs to find that the basement door that normally seals me off from the cats’ food bowls?? It is inexplicably left wide open.  Whoa.

Finish all cat food in bowls, and all surrounding schnibblets on the floor.  Consider the treats kept in the box of litter (crunchy on the outside, chewy in the middle… ) but reconsider when I hear Jane making coffee.  She might drop some beans.  L-O-V-E coffee beans.

After a quick drink out of the toilet to wash it down (refreshing!), I go to the back door and scratch to be let out.

Run around maniacally in the back yard, chasing all birds and squirrels off of the bird feeders.  Hey — if this is my dream day?  I actually catch one for the first time.

Tastes like chicken.

Do my ‘business’ in Jane’s flower bed, then scratch my claws into the mud in that illogical dog behavior that looks like I am trying to cover it up but I never do.  The mud feels good on my paws.  Hmmmm, what smells so GOOD out here today?

Scout out location of some possum poo for rolling in later.  No, now.  No, later.  No, must do now.  No, save it for later.  No — oh, I can’t decide.

Come running when Jane yells out the door “DON’T YOU DARE ROLL IN THAT!”  Puzzle for just a moment — how does she know I am about to roll in something pleasantly pungent?  Wasn’t she making coffee?

Come trotting in nonchalantly and go to food bowl to pretend that I never ate all the cat food and therefore I am hungry for my breakfast.

Refuse to eat dry dog food breakfast until canned food is mixed in.  (C’mon man, it is my birthday after all!)

Scratch at front door this time.

7.3 seconds after door closes, bark to come back in.

Stare at Jane sitting at computer, writing with a cat on her lap.

“Long walk, please.”

Feel dumbfounded that Jane has such lousy hearing.  I can hear the Fed Ex man drop a paper clip in his truck 10 houses away, but she is so human.

Momentarily distracted by squirrel on the suet feeder by the window.  That squirrel makes me very agitated.

Back to Jane.   Still typing.  Maybe I’ll just close my eyes for a little while….

{6 hours later…}

What, huh? What time is it?  ~yawn~  Almost time for dinner, that’s what time it is!

*

So, we love the dog a silly amount and we will enjoy her arbitrary special day and use it to remind us that all good things do come to an end so we can just enjoy every day with her now.  That was an awkward sentence but I think you know what I mean.  Her birthday will include an actual walk in that dream day somewhere.  If we find a squished roadkill furry woodland animal on the road, I will let her sniff it this time (but not roll on it).  And she’ll get lots of love.  And, possibly, some wet dog food mixed with rice and sculpted into a squirrel for dinner.  Something that can hold a candle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In fond memory of our good dog friend Angel, who passed away a week ago today and would have loved to share a birthday squirrel with Kenzie.  She was much loved and is missed.

“If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.”

Will Rogers, 1897 – 1935