Puppy Birthday Explosion!

Ah, Puppy...I remember when we brought you home.
They told us your birthday was December 14th, and that you had reflux.
Then you peed on my lap and hid under my leg.
You were such a cute little puppy.

 
 
 
 
 

You were so small, only 16 pounds.
You only had tiny little teeth, and tiny little toes.

 
 
 
 
 

I remember thinking that one day, you would be big enough to eat my head.

 
 
 
 
 

You got along so well with your brothers...until your reflux drugs wore off.

 
 
 
 
 

Luckily, your brothers were very forgiving. They must think you're cute, too.

 
 
 
 
 

I don't remember those early months very clearly. You stood still a lot, when you weren't running after me. Your teeth grew in lovely and strong, and you began to listen to your fluffy brother.

 
 
 
 
 

You dug holes a lot when you were little. Next year, you'll dig more.

 
 
 
 
 

I had never met a dog who was afraid of everything but thorny hedges.

 
 
 
 
 

You had good manners from the start; you housebroke yourself in one day, and never put your elbows on the table...

 
 
 
 
 

without making sure that your rump was also on the table.

 
 
 
 
 

But no matter what you eat--tables, CDs, books, poops, humans--you always manage to be insanely cute at the end of the night.

 
 
 
 
 

You have the taste for good food.

 
 
 
 
 

And you're learning to welcome visitors.

 
 
 
 
 

You even have great a sense of humor.

 
 
 
 
 

When you're older, you'll probably get into the coffee and stay up all night.

 
 
 
 
 

With any luck, you'll get all of your injuries out of the way at a young age. It isn't your fault your knees don't work like they should. I'm glad it's not my fault, either. Your parents made you too cute to let crap knees keep you from living, though.

 
 
 
 
 

You trained yourself to go to bed each night; even when you don't want to.

 
 
 
 
 

I'm glad you got used to me waking you up with the camera, like I did last night when you turned 1.

 
 
 
 
 

And I'm glad you're part of my life.

Happy Birthday, Puppy.

Don't eat your brothers' poops. Or your brothers.

UPDATE!

We started you out with healthy habits. That lasted about a month, and so you couldn't wait to stop the musical candle and have come cake. You and I were the only ones who appreciated the minty madness of the frosting, and the sugar buzz that followed.

Puppy Birthday Explosion!