Happy Birthday to my dog. Lola you are 1 today. As I look back over the last year I have to admit we’ve had our ups and downs. Probably more “downs” since you seem to have swallowed a sofa magnet, but I’m human enough to admit you’ve been a friend… not exactly the best friend I was led to believe you would be… more the type of friend who eats your food, leaves the occasional foul smell and forces you to go out when you really can’t be bothered.
I remember that first day when we went to collect you. I recognised you immediately from the photo I’d been sent by text. You were a tiny scrap, had a splodge of white on that hooter thing you have on the front of your face, had stupid long ears but more importantly huge puppy dog eyes. You were slightly more ginger than I had expected, but I’m not racist and I took you into my heart and home. I do however hope the £300 you cost to buy was invested in an upgrade with the emphasis on megapixels and not the call plan.
I understand from your personality type you “thrive on attention”. That said it would be great if we could work on the “neediness” in year 2. Some “me” time would be good and a bit of distance from time to time would be useful – especially on the stairs, in the bathroom, and at the dinner table. I also understand you’re “willing to try new things” but that habit you’ve developed with your own poo and more recently other dogs’ poos really has to stop. Your “good appetite” wasn’t I’m sure meant to include that new indoor plant I bought, the lamp cord which thankfully wasn’t live and Oliver’s Iron Man. You are a proper Cocker though, well more of a Sprocker, but we can’t be sure as your mother looked like she was a bit of a fox and by all accounts, if your father is who they think he was, he was a proper son of a bitch.
The last year certainly hasn’t been a bore. It’s been full of exciting times! Running on to the main road was one of them, me chasing you chasing football players was another and falling into that river… well enough said.
When I asked you how you wanted to celebrate your special day you just looked up at me and offered no suggestions, so I have tried to make it as restful and as stress-free as possible. I haven’t hoovered, I’ve let you indulge in a bit of the bottom warmth you seem to so enjoy when I get up from the armchair, I’ve covered your ears from the sounds of the “puppy killers” you are so fearful of (dustmen), and I’ve eased off on the “treats for tricks only” rule. Oh and by the way “play dead” shouldn’t involve tail wagging.
Lola you have a life expectancy of between 12 and 15 years. This may sound a tad melancholy but what’s worse is that this can be shortened… lamp cords, main roads, unsupervised chocolate bars and frankly behaviour dependent. In a strange sort of a way I look forward to more of the same. Happy birthday Lola you complete freak.