I complained to the Mom person about not being allowed on her laptop. She said I wasn’t allowed on it because I shed too much and she’s writing yet another paper for some certification she’s working on. (PLEASE–do not give her any other ideas about getting more certifications…whatever those are…I don’t get my head scratched nearly as much when she’s getting one.)

The only papers I have ever cared about were the ones they let me use when I was a pup. Even then, I was sequestered to the cold tile floors of the house. NOT my idea of fun. I used to pout about it, but it never seemed to get me released from paper-and-tile-land. They did let me on a warmer floor when they realized I had chewed all the furniture legs in paper-and-tile-land.

But, according to some other papers (According to the Mom person, these papers cost a lot of money and have something to do with a Kennel Association. I don’t get how dog kennels get together or even why they get together, but apparently these kennels have a lot to talk about.) I am about to have a rather monumental birthday.

On March 19, I turn 10 years old. I’m not really sure why this is any different from any other birthday I’ve had, because I just get a bigger bone on my birthday and as nearly as I can tell, I’m not sniffing out anything more special for tomorrow vs. any other birthday. But the Mom person says it’s a big deal and so, I’m allowed to tell you about the big deal here.

She says 10 is special for a few reasons. It means I’m double-digits now. Double-digits must be code for it’s harder to get up and down now. Double-digits must also mean a whiter face and sore hip bones. And I seem to go outside a lot more often now.

The mom person thinks it’s because I need to go potty more often, but it’s really because there are a lot of flying and climbing nemeses in MY yard that seem to think they own the place. I must make sure they maintain a reasonable distance from my dog bowls and my people. Even the Mom person (She seems to take way too much joy in making me sit and lay down just so I can get a treat every blue moon). Those infernal creatures are a menace to society.

As double-digits I also sleep a lot more and tolerate other dogs more placidly. Okay. Maybe that’s stretching it a bit. It depends on the dog, but I do try to be less irritated by their presence even if they eat and drink out of my bowls and take all my bones.

But if I do say so myself, I still get around pretty well for being 10 and I can play and run and romp with the best of them, if the right rewards are around…like a big water bowl and woods and other fun dogs and even the occasional frisbee.

The Mom person says that 10 is also special because it’s supposed to be the number for perfection. She says I have pretty much attained that except when there’s a thunderstorm, I insist on a booty scratch, or when we go to the place with the sharp pokers. (Every time I leave there, I hurt from those poker things!)

So, Happy Birthday to Me! Now where is that dog bone I’ve been smelling??? If the Mom person doesn’t get it soon, I’m going to shed all over this keyboard.

You Might Also Like: Maizie’s Musings: Birthdays and Maizie’s Musings: Road Trip