In the chaos of deadlines and New Book Planning, I’ve forgotten many things. But this, I did not forget. Today is Max’s second birthday.
While her “present” will be a long hike this weekend, tonight a small gathering will be raising a glass (and handing out a new Hedgie) to celebrate. Over on Twitter, I asked if I should get her a pupcake, or if that was gilding the already-spoiled puppy.
The overwhelming response was “yes, get her a pupcake!”
For those of you unfamiliar with this trend, a pupcake is…exactly what it sounds like. A dog-tummy-safe cupcake, made with things like bananas, pumpkin, and peanut butter flour. You can make them at home (there are mixes!) or you can go to a hoity-toity pet shop or specialty baker. Yes, there are actual dog-treat bakeries.
Dog people, we need a reality check. Dogs eat dirt. They eat raw carcasses they find by the side of the trail. They will eat shit, some of them. They are not impressed by a fancy pupcakes with dog-safe frosting and a candle. Admit it, you’re doing it for the insta.
(Not that there’s anything wrong with that.)
But this is a milestone birthday. We did it, we got through her puppyhood and her adolescence mostly intact, if a lot poorer (most recent expense: $80 for meds to get her through another bout of Giardia, ouch). She’s reached her adult size and weight, and her personality is, if not set, then firmly established. 85% sugar, 10% vinegar, and 5% hellion. I love her to bits, and I wouldn’t trade her for anything. Although I might downsize her just a bit.
Are there things I’d do differently over the past two years, given the chance? Absolutely. “No dogs on the bed” would have been a hard rule from the start, for one. Getting her better-socialized with under-ten humans. Figured out her particular quirks and needs faster than I did. It’s probably impossible to raise any living creature and not have regrets along the way.
There are some things I just have to accept were always going to be, raising a pandemic puppy. But I think we did okay.
People tell me she will start to settle down, energy-wise, around three. Or four. Or maybe five.
Please god, by five. Momma’s tired, and the cat needs a break.
And this brings us to the end of my regular dogblogging. I hope you enjoyed growing up with us.
…and did I get her a pupcake? You’ll have to check my instagram to find out.