Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Birthday boy

The dry-erase board on our fridge is normally reserved for things like bills and grocery lists, but this morning we made room for a guilt trip. Look close to see the stream of tears.

See, today is Chickenbone's birthday. He is the big three. Last year we actually threw him a party. Invited my mother-in-law's three chihuahuas, Chief, Macho and Buster. Served them doggy cupcakes from a "bakery." Killed a pony keg. It was a kick.

This year? Nada. Maybe we're over it. OR MORE LIKELY, maybe we are tapped out after recently spending $60 on a padded booster seat so Chickens won't have to live in his crate of misery when we drive to New Mexico next month. Or perhaps we're still wincing at the $200 we're about to spend on four hours with a private trainer, who will hopefully help Chickens stop turning into a slobbering, snarling werewolf at the mere sight of another dog. But that's a story for another day, because I can't ruin Chickens' birthday with tales about how he is a bad boy. AND forgetting to buy a present.

OMG AN UPDATE! Sal just called. He was on his way out of PetSmart with a pig's ear, a cow's hoof, a frisbee, a can of doggy "cherries jubilee" and one of those long yellow dogs from the PetSmart commercials. I'm so relieved. Except for a sneaking suspicion that we'll be seeing that jubilee twice tonight, if you catch my drift.

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