Hey Fluffer-munch

A letter to my little darling (because I’m sure that she reads this blog).

Dear Posie,

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

Birthday Boy

smiles

Nathan has this thing going where he will call Rupert “my son”. It’s all “has my son had his dinner?” and “have you taken my son for a walk today?”. This has progressed to calling him “my biological son” and listing all the characteristics that Rupert inherited from his “father”. Apparently they both like eating in bed, making smells and noises, and annoying us girls.

Anyway, Nathan’s biological son turned ELEVEN today. Can you believe it? Sometimes when he sleeps literally all day long, I can believe it. But other times, when he rolls on his back and nips at Posie’s legs to try and get her to play with him, or when he has mad sprinting sessions through the house at midnight before he can put himself to bed, I really can’t believe he’s classed as elderly. And considering his tremendous challenges, we are extremely lucky to still have him with us… hopefully for many more years.

He had a good day. He spent most of the day sunbaking and catching flies. Then we went to the vet for a pre-dental check and he peed on some of the furniture, stepped in and then left little wet footprints all over the floor – I was so embarrassed. He came home and had regular dinner, then special second dinner – chopped up steak and yellow capsicum (my dogs are mad for capsicum). On the weekend, maybe we’ll go to the beach, but we will definitely take him to the pet store and he can pick out a special new toy, because they just don’t have enough already. Birthdays for the dogs used to be this magical thing, but I can feel myself starting to dread when they come around each year. It’s easier to trick yourself into believing that they will be around forever when they are younger.

So, to our son – happy eleventh birthday Prince Rupert! We love everything about you: the way you sit on Nathan’s shoulder while he eats and watch his food with laser-focus; your little fluffy floor-duster paws; the way you put yourself to bed every night at a sensible time; your little popcorn barks; your tuna sashimi tongue; how you sit up at the table at Mum’s house and wait patiently to be served; how you simply stop, drop and roll over any time we make you wear a sweater; how much you miss Posie when she goes somewhere without you; how you burrow under the blankets and try to nuzzle us with your cold, wet nose; how you like to try and dig a hole in the bed at 3am; your supreme fly catching abilities; the way that you don’t like vegetables or French fries until you are absolutely sure that there isn’t a better option; the way you flip backwards in the arms of whoever holds you until they are holding you like a baby; most of all, your beautiful smile. We are so lucky, grateful and proud to be your humans (sorry Nathan, I mean biological parents)!

I Forgot!

birthday

Totally forgot my obligatory birthday post! On Tuesday, we turned 29 and 33 (yes, it’s on the same day). We went out for lunch, some special tickets arrived for me and Nathan bought himself a new toy. We had ridiculously expensive cheese and champagne that we could never normally justify, but when it’s TWO birthdays in one, we can justify it. Posie and Rupert got twiggy sticks and we watched Independence Day. It was extremely low key, especially compared to the extravaganzas we have managed other years. But kind of like when we got engaged, it was nice to just be at home with our beloved little companions. It was cozy.

Before we get to me, happy birthday firstly to Nathan. He always moans about how I stole his birthday; I prefer to tell the story that I’m the best birthday present he ever received. I know he would love to have a day all about him, but if I have to share with anybody, I’m so glad it’s with him. You know how you want to feel special on your birthday? I feel like we don’t just double the special-ness, we multiply it. We waltz around in our own little “why not? it’s our birthday!” bubble and always figure out a way to make it great for both of us. I love sharing the day… I hope that one day Nathan will quit being grumpy about it and realize how cool it can be.

As for turning 29 – I haven’t made up my mind about this one. I always sort of thought I would have things together by 29, but the further I go, the more I realize that nobody ever feels like they have everything together, all areas of their life working perfectly at the same time. No matter how old they are. But this new number next to my name is making me hyper-aware of new things, and I’m not sure if it’s all constructive. I’m suddenly regarding my hair, my wardrobe, everything, with a critical eye – would a ‘woman almost in her thirties’ wear that? Is that appropriate for a woman of your age? It’s a bit ridiculous, especially given that I’m always guessed to be younger than I am. If there is a limit or a threshold, I’m not there yet.

If I have to be 29, I might as well enjoy it. Bring on all the good things that will happen this year! 29 will see me finishing Honours and starting the PhD, going to Bali and Japan, renovating the hell out of this old shack, getting my groove back, and best of all, marrying my Ultimate Grand Super Birthday Twin. Our constant joke now is that if we ever have a baby, we should aim for them to be born on our birthday (because these sorts of things are totally within our control, right?). The ultimate hat trick would be to have twins on our birthday, or to have two separate children, four years apart, both born on our birthday. I think those are realistic, achievable goals!