It was my birthday on Sunday. I turned 7 human years. That’s around 50 in dog years. I didn’t want to celebrate but Tobermory
insisted on organizing a party for me.
He reminded me of the story I told him about Daddy’s 50th
birthday party. All his friends and
litter mates came from far away places to drink falling over juice and wriggle
around in the garden while a group of howling humans, pulled strings attached to
pieces of wood and hit big round boxes with sticks.
I think Tobermory’s offer to
arrange a party may have been a little self-serving. We both like Mummy’s cake made from orange
vegetables, bee juice and squashed nuts topped with cheese from small human
kennels, however the guest list was a little suspect. He says he invited my BFF, Truman, but he was
busy taking care of his little sister and his boy because their humans were out
of town. Now, I’m not saying that Tobermory
is some kind of lothario, but his answer to this was to fill our garden with
his girl-friends.
I don’t want you to think that
I’m a cradle snatcher, but there was one girl, Sierra who I’ve never really
spoken with much. I’ve known her since she
was puppy and she really has grown into quite an exceptional young bitch, and
the legs ….. She says her mother is a
free spirit so really doesn’t know who her father is. We talked for a long time.
She has a lot of wisdom for her age and
can do some really cool tricks, like rolling over.
I’ve usually found girls closer to my age who
are fish retrievers like me to be more to my taste, but I think I need to broaden my horizons to include long haired, free spirited California hippy chicks.
Talisker
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