A letter to my little darling (because I’m sure that she reads this blog).
You are eight! Such an achievement. We are very proud of the dog that you have become, but I can never be sure which parts are nature and which are nurture. I’d like to wish that every delightful bit of you is due to our efforts, but it’s not true – you were spritely, sassy and spirited already on the day we met.
Lately you’ve been on a super affectionate streak (I am not complaining at all). You trot along after us, sneaking little licks on our shins so that we’ll praise and pat you. You figured out this little trick all by yourself, and we’re both amazed that you trained us this way. You also have made a habit of just sitting and staring at us, projecting the biggest amount of telepathic love that your little body can manage. Then no amount of kisses is enough.
You still bark at the mailman, you still love asparagus, you still get huffy if you don’t get to go visit Granny and Poppy every weekend. You have a few more lumps and bumps than last year, but it happens to us all. It’s hard to believe that you are a senior dog, not when you still act so much like a puppy. You and I have incredibly high level communication – I always know exactly what your little noises, your gestures, your pointing and your facial expressions mean, even if it is something like “I want you to open the door to the kitchen then lift me up so I can survey the counter tops to make sure you didn’t leave any leftovers uncovered”.
You are not ‘just a dog’, you’re the shining star of my life, the princess of my heart, the reason for being (along with Rupert, of course). Happy birthday Miss Munch!
Love from Mummy xx