June 27th.... Does that date ring any bells, Diary? No? Let me give you an hour to remember... That's how long it took Mother Person to remember that today is THE DAY OF MY BIRTH!!! But apparently I'm the Molly Ringwald of the 9 year olds. Misery. Did I get woken up by a giant birthday ham fall from the ceiling??? Did I get a parade and bacon wrapped socks??? NO. I got NADA. Injustice. I got my same ol' kibble, in my same ol' bowl (no crystal?? no Steuben???) from that same bleary eyed Soft Touch. And then... an HOUR after I'd done my business, eaten, read the paper and was settling in for my morning nap, Mother Person bursts out the shower-- her hair in an appalling turban thing-- saying "BEANS!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!"
She gave me pity snuggles. She rubbed my belly with her guilt ridden hands. She woooja-woojaed my sweet face with such desperation I nearly threw up the 3 socks I'd been storing up for such an occasion. With my age, comes wisdom, so I did not vomit on the couch during her affections. I thought that would lower my possibilities for a treat. Apparently, it makes no difference to this cold hearted dingbat, as again, I GOT NADA. Injustice. (I will throw them up tomorrow. On a pillow. Mark my words.)
But alas... Today I, and I alone, will celebrate that 9 hallowed years ago in the hamlet of Mountain Top, Pennsylvania, I burst forth into this world in all my short but long glory. Full of dreams, hopes, and the desire to eat anything and everything that crosses my path. (I regret that earbud though...)
So dynamic. So glorious.
Look at me. Have you ever seen something more beautiful in your life??! Move over Ryan Gosling. Your time is up!!! (Although, you are better at the wife beater/suspenders look. Damn my lack of shoulders!!!!!)
I hope tonight Mother Person regales me with salted meats. Or tells me that we're FINALLY giving the Tiny Human and the vacuum cleaner to the circus. A pup can dream... a pup can dream...
Beans A. Wienerdog