HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FAMOUS!
Happy birthday, buddy! You are nine years old! If it were my birthday, my dad would be telling the story of bringing me home from the hospital during the hottest summer he could remember. So hot, in fact, he had to go and buy a box fan to sit in the window to cool the apartment. Later as a kid, I used to get close to the breeze coming from the fan and make funny sounds with my voice! So your story is how I drove all the way to northern Virginia when you were almost ten weeks old to bring you home one weekend. (When you were born I received puppy pictures on my cell phone of you and your brothers.) You cried at first, all alone in your crate, even though there was a new stuffed bone pillow for you to snuggle. So I started singing along with the radio playing, and ten minutes later you were quiet and resting. We had our first walk in the parking lot of a big box store somewhere along the highway that afternoon. It was also a very hot day when I brought you home, and I looked for the one tree that might give our vehicle a bit of shade. I have done that many times over the past nine years, always aware of precious cargo in the back of my car. Thanks for being a loyal friend, for being blessed with a gentle temperament, and for being my inspiration for all of these years! Happy birthday!
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