Flash was born on Christmas Day, the last of his litter, which is how he came to have his name. He’s AKC registered and his whole name is Flash Photo Finish and then the name of his breeder. I call him the Flashster, the Mouth of the South, Sir Barksalot, and Fluffy Butt. If I have kibble in my pocket, he’ll answer to almost anything.
Today he’s 6.
He received two presents: one for Christmas and one for his birthday. He’s ignored both.
I guess, if you’re the Flashster, every day is like your birthday. You’re feted and coddled and cuddled and praised. You’re treated and brushed and rubbed and played with. You have to roll over on your back so your mom can scratch your belly, check your rash, and play Nancy Nurse.
Life isn’t so bad as a dog.
Happy Birthday, Flash. You have totally upended my life. But, all in all, the change has been for the better, I think.
Here’s to hoping you have lots more birthdays.