Last year, we made a special trip to the doggy bakery. I knew that I was going to do that with each of my puppies on their only birthday with me, but this time was Dante's first of many birthdays as mine. So, I guess the tradition has really just begun.
Dante knows that this place is his store, and goes borderline crazy every time we have been there. It does not help that the owner and employees spoil him rotten, so I resort to basic just-don't-lunge-at-toys-you-want-or-jump-on-the-counters behavior. Not great, I know but heck, he's not in training anymore (but don't worry, his training isn't going to pot -- he keeps his skills up and is learning new, fun ones too; more on that later).
Before heading home, we drove through Starbucks. Dante was sitting in the passenger side with my sister, and the lady at the window commented on how beautiful he is. I said thank you, and told her it was his birthday, and she came back with whipped cream for him! I only allowed him a little bit, but he loved it!
Lots more play time (are you sensing a theme here?), and then Dante and Moray got their birthday treats! They have this whole eating thing down to a science: check it out first while we Wait:
Look off into the distance, resisting the urge to break the Sit command:
Check with me:
|Yeah...the plates weren't really necessary in hindsight...|
Then switch places to be sure the other one did not leave any precious crumbs:
Happy birthday, Dante! This time last year I did not know where you would be now. Often I marvel at the potential and intelligence that you possess, but there are moments that remind me that you are right where you belong too. Some of which are when I take away the dishtowel you stole for the millionth time today, but especially in the way you look at me with those always-sparkling eyes and understand every word I say and every move I make. I love you, my very own Mr. D!