Yesterday, my sweet baby Bear dog turned six. Belle is my muse, but Bear is my sweet angel dog. He’s jumped through a window, broken through a door, he sheds like crazy, he has enough skin for a dog twice his size, he’s knock-kneed, pigeon-toed and has bad hips, he only holds one ear up, he has an underbite, he constantly frets over me and Belle, he feels the need to mark on every third blade of grass we pass, his gas is very nearly lethal,…
I think he’s perfect.
To celebrate his birthday, Bear and I went to the lake for a little off-leash fun (sans Belle).
And then Belle and I went to pick up his presents from Lucky Dog Barkery… a special cupcake
and a new version of his favorite toy. Last year I gave him this birthday cake that plays “Happy Birthday” when squeezed — assuming he’d immediately tear off the candles and then rip the rest of the stuffing out like he always does. But no, he’s so gentle with it. He carries it around fairly often – whenever I tell him to go get his toy, he bypasses all the rest, searching out this one. It’s disgustingly filthy, but it still works so I haven’t tried to do any more than just sponge it to clean it (clearly hasn’t worked). I’m hoping the replacement can be seamlessly substituted in and be just as loved.
I’ve made him pinky swear he’ll be around for many many many more birthdays.