Happy Birthday, Bailey Dog

I don't have a "grand-dog."   That term grabs me in an odd place.  My daughter, however, has a pooch.  His name is Bailey or, more accurately stated, "Bailey Dog."

Today by arbitrary decree, we celebrated his birthday.  No one in this household actually knows the date, but based on information from the rescue shelter, he was born sometime in the last part of November.  So after breakfast today, my daughter declared that it was time for Bailey's birthday party.  I was uncertain about the format for such a celebration, not having attended festivities for a birthday dog, but it was certainly going to be one of the Things I get to do today.

Not to worry.  It was fairly simple.  She hid Bailey's birthday present under her sweater, called him in the appropriate its-your-birthday-aren't-you-excited voice.  His ears pricked up.  His tail wagged.   He danced about on all fours like he was standing on something too hot.  It was the big moment.  He sat for just three seconds (he's been well trained to do this before accepting a treat) and then graciously and gently gripped his birthday gift.

Applause and admiration for such good behavior from such a fine dog who was now officially three years old.  The party was over.  It last all of two minutes and ended with a bacon-flavored chew toy.  Perfect.

True appreciation for his bacon-flavored chew