Yesterday, December. 3, was the 11th birthday of my American Mastiff, Moses. It may sound corny to celebrate a dog’s birthday, but the truth is, I don’t believe Moses has many more. Research shows that his breed normally lives 10-12 years. My vet once said that it’s closer to 10. So I guess Moses is living on borrowed time.
Every time I go out of town, and especially when I leave the country, I worry that he will die while I’m gone. I always remind whoever is looking after my critters that should he find Moses dead, he is to take him to the vet. My vet has agreed to keep him in cold storage until I return. I’m one of those people who has to see her loved one after death, even if it’s an animal. It brings closure. I plan on having him cremated and will place his ashes in a special doggy urn, the way I did my favorite cat, Miss Marple. She’s resting peacefully on top of my armoire.
But I’m getting morbid here, and what I really wanted to say was that Moses, Maggie and I celebrated his birthday with cupcakes. I wanted to get a picture of him eating his cake, the way I did on his first birthday. Knowing how he wolfs down people food, I purposely bought mini-cupcakes so I could prolong the experience. But no matter how many I tossed him, or how slowly, I couldn’t capture him while eating. I even tried putting one at a time on the kitchen counter and encouraging him to get it. Alas, neither I nor my camera were as fast as a dog with a sweet tooth. But all three of us enjoyed the celebration, even if the dogs had no idea what it was all about.