Today my little baby turns 1 year old. To celebrate, she shared a grape popsicle with her sister on the deck. Their tongues were in super-speed. It was gross, really.
If you follow our blog regularly, you will know that George was anti-animal when we met. He would tolerate Millie and on rare occasions, give her a flat handed pat on the top of her head. About two months into our relationship, he was opening up to her, accepting that she went everywhere I did, and even graduated to full-contact petting. Shortly after we moved in together, we bred Millie and had a litter of puppies. That was when George really caught the fever, and once the puppies had all gone to their new homes, he was OB-SESSED with searching the web for a new puppy to add to our family. (Before you ask… we didn’t keep one of Millie’s puppies because they were all boys and we operate on a strict “estrogen only” policy in our house. See? I already knew what you were thinking.)
George searched the web in Florida, Alabama, Arkansas, Georgia, Kansas, and even Mars to find the perfect chocolate and tan (because brown is his favorite color behind garnet and gold) daughter. He was absolutely certain she was meant to be ours.
And of course, he was right. She was perfect… sort of. As she grew, all of her physical quirks began to expose themselves. We learned she has a “bad eye” that photographs really poorly and makes her look a little possessed. She has a cowlick on the back of her neck, she grunts and snorts like a farm hog, she has two inverted nipples, extra vertebrae in her back that makes her resemble an inch-worm when she walks, and has extra teeth that give her a bit of a Redneck quality. And, when she plays, she sounds like a snarling wildebeest. She’s a catch-all of strange characteristics that make her perfect.
It is a guarantee that she will wake us up before the sun rises every single day with the sound of her snort and her cold, wet nose in our faces. She is ornery and funny, and sweet and happy. And no matter how many more deformities reveal themselves in her lifetime, she was worth every hour George spent searching for her on the net. Happy Birthday, Bamones!