Say hello to the birthday boy. My gift to him was 20 minutes on the front porch without a leash, watching the traffic and pedestrians go by. Because he’s such a freakin’ STAR he didn’t even try to budge from the porch. Not even once. SUPER. STAR.
(Yes, I’m looking at you, Memphis.)
(Or as we now call her, “Memphis, The Destroyer.”)
Anyway, he’s eating dinner as I type this. What he doesn’t know is that when he comes back upstairs he gets a big scoop of vanilla ice cream to celebrate. Yeah, yeah, yeah, the Destroyer gets one, too. But he knows it’s his day because he’ll get a massive belly rub later as well. That’s how we roll.