Sixteen…Biscuits?

I get to bring my dog, H, to work with me everyday. This is great because 1) I don’t have to worry about walking the energetic Australian Shepherd before work and 2) it’s just great having a dog in the office.

For whatever reason, H was in a great mood today. He was extra sprite. Extra jumpy. Full of energy. It was like he knew something about today that we didn’t know. He had some read on the stock market, or the project we’re working on that we didn’t know. We always say about our dogs, “It looks like he’s smiling.” Well, today H was actually smiling.

As the day wore on, however, his mood seemed to change a bit. He wasn’t as playful. Was something wrong? He sometimes has a bad neck that bothers him. Is that what was going on?

Nope.

We had forgotten his birthday and the poor guy was living his own K-9 version of Sixteen Candles. Lest you think I’m kidding, as soon as I remembered and wished him a “Happy Birthday, H!,” he immediately perked back up. He was merely channeling his inner Samantha Baker. (Does that make him Samantha…Barker? Sorry. My bad.) Unfortunately, for H, there is no Jake Ryan in his story.

So, H, (and I assume you can read), thank you for everything you bring to our little family – both at home and the office. You got us ready for K-Man. You proved to us that we could indeed care for a living creature without doing mortal damage. (Though, that crate training thing didn’t really translate to the K-Man.) Nobody will ever deny that you weren’t truly our first-born.

Sorry, ol’ pup! Happy eighth birthday, our fine, furry friend. May the year be filled with treats, long walks and energetic belly scratches.

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