I would be remiss if I were to neglect noting that yesterday was my birthday. Birthdays can be moments of both celebration & reflection. At least such is the case for me.
I was born in the state of Idaho which is very far from my home in Athens, GA. I have forgotten my birth mom. Only my AKC registration provides a clue as to her existence [also naming my father, grandparents and great-grandparents]
My life here has its ups and downs. Papa feeds me treats at every turn, takes me out for a ride in the car every weekend, and spoils me rotten. Mama exercises and disciplines me and only afterwards does she shower me with affection. An example: the photograph pictures me in the new role Mama is trying to force on me, i.e. that of Helper Dog. [a Helper Dog is one who, contrary to all laws of dog and nature, lives to assist the chosen human, to work for her, to protect her, and etc. in exchange for which the human says "good dog."]
Despite what can only be called the "mixed bag" of living in the Roushanzamir household, my birthday was a day of rejoicing. Special care was lavished on me, special endearments, spoken. I felt truly loved, even adored [therefore not missing the cake with candles that should, rightfully, have appeared].
