Today is Cara’s first birthday!  Well, sort of.  If her birthday were its own national holiday (soon, people…soon), on July 4 on the calendar, right under where it says "Independence Day," it would say "Cara’s Birthday (Observed)."  ‘Cause we don’t know when it really is.  Based on her intake date at the Humane Society and her estimated age on that date, we’re sayin’ it’s today.  It will be easier to remember and since I’ve never really celebrated any of my dogs’ birthdays, I thought it best to start with easy.

I forgot (gasp!) it was her birthday until Tally and I were getting ready to go to his obedience class.  And so of course I jumped up and down and screamed about how "IT’S YOUR BIRT-DAY!"  She immediately recognized the importance of the day and started jumping up and down too.

Her first birthday present was half a Wendy’s hamburger, sans bun.  She rarely gets people food, so I figured it would be a real treat.  I didn’t even have time to pat myself on the back before it was all gone.  Probably would have been more birthday present appropriate had I drawn it out by giving her individual pieces out of my hand.  Maybe then she would have tasted.  And chewed.  

Her second present was a 20 minute bully stick session.  Does everyone know what a bullystick is?  Now, I haven’t confirmed this on the always-incontrovertible Wikipedia, because quite frankly, nothing can be better than what I think it is.  My understanding of the definition of a bully stick is a dehydrated, stretched-out bull penis that is great for chewing on.  You can imagine all the jokes we get out of that, so if it’s really something else, don’t tell me. Anyway, when she has this bully stick in her mouth (hee), nothing else in the world exists. It is her happy place. 

THEN for her third and final present, I traipsed all over the place to find a kiddie pool because I just knew that would officially make her birt-day The Funnest Day Ever.  Two miserable rides in an air-conditioner-impaired truck, 10 minutes spent squatting in the Wal-Mart parking lot to pick up ONE MILLION spilled poker chips (yeah, I don’t know), and one bag of peanut M&Ms later (they have them now with strawberry flavor!  It’s like a PB&J!  But…not really), I got it home and filled it up, and awaited the exultant reaction and renewed sense of milestone birthday celebration. 

What I actually got? "SWEET, A GIANT WATER BOWL!"  Let me tell you, those dogs love that giant water bowl.  That giant, festering, stagnant, West-Nile-breeding water bowl. (We know…we’re going to obviously empty it very regularly, and yes, our dogs are up to date on their heartworm pills.)

Happy birt-day, Cara.  We love you.