It's My Party

and I'll look goofy if I want to!

Today a miraculous thing happened.

Tweed turned NINE YEARS OLD. 9!!! ZOMG!

And I he did it without me throttling his evil little red neck too. At least, not fatally.

Australian Shepherd people tell me that it takes 3 years for an Aussie to grow a brain, and 3 more for them to figure out how to use it. "And add a couple more years if they're boy Aussies!" they squeak cheerfully. Oh brother. I thought the border collie half of his brain would have kicked in sooner, but I was wrong.

Just a little less than 9 years ago, a rescuer in Washington State sent me this photo:

Gadzooks! I was smitten. I had The Puppy Fever (and look what happened! Now you know why I don't indulge in the puppy lust anymore).

But he sure was cute. He wuved his big brother Briggs.
And I had the handsomest pair o' red collies this side of the Rockies.

Of course, Tweed is evil. For many years he has defied me, tormented me, sassed me, embarrassed me and generally made me pull out my hair on too many occasions to count. My friend Elisha commented on a photo of him recently, where he was cocking his head in typical Tweed style and said "he's waiting for you to tell him what to do, so he can do the opposite!"

My friends know him so well.

But I wouldn't trade him for the world. He is hilarious, ridiculous, willful, defiant, keen, scary-smart and a character like no other.

So to celebrate, I threw him a party. Complete with a cake made of ostriches. AND I PUT THE GODDAMN MR. PICKLES NEVERENDING PEEPS TO GOOD USE TOO!!!

This cake was made by the FeelGood Treat Company and cost me twenty motherflippin' dollars at Tisol. Usually I get a personalized cake from ThreeDogBakery. I think next time I'll go back to them, because their cakes are better. For starters - no chisel required to slice the thing, and I never have a pile of ostrich confetti in a ziploc bag after it thaws.

But the dogs did not complain.

NOM NOM NOM

Even though we made them wear a goofy hat before we gave them the cake.

This is not happening. This is not happening. HAPPYPLACEHAPPYPLACE!

Even Sofa* got into the spirit of the party, with a little help from his dad.
*Sofa? YES! Because this big gangly puppy is everywhere, usually crashing into the back of my knees as he gambols around the office, and I end up sitting on him about 7 times an afternoon. And accidentally riding him around the office. So we have renamed him Sofa - a big, squishy, drooling fast moving Sofa.


But what kind of dog owner would I be if I didn't torment my dogs with the cake first, for your enjoyment?

But pshaw. I do this every year. Time to shake it up a little.

Cue two more dogs to torment.
Tweed got a little anxious about the competition for the cake. Piper refused to believe I had the balls to do this. Sofa didn't even understand why he was supposed to be there.

Yeah, it was good times.

BUT NOT GOOD ENOUGH.

It's not a real party until you bust out the whipped cream in a can!

hee hee!

I cannot believe my good fortune!

Turbo was having none of the hissy can of edible oil goodness, but he politely slurped some off Auntie Food Lady's sticky fingers.

As for Sofa ... oh the life of a puppy. This was Sofa's first experience with whipped cream.

You want me to what?

Oh I get it! I get it!!

Epitome of a good party:

Yay! I like to rock the party!

Happy 9th birthday to my Special Little Guy!!

Here's to 9 more great years! If I last that long.

For his birthday this year I am taking Tweed to the AAC Regionals in Campbell River on the May long weekend. Wish us luck!!