Ah my little bookworm (I didn't even pose her like that). Too bad there's not a brain so accompany the cuteness. Since I already read the Mrs.' tribute to Punkin for her third birthday I thought I'd give a little tribute to my punkin on her birthday.
Well Scarecrow, in the pass two years I've watched you eat three pairs of prescription eyeglasses, pee on Papa's bed (which I thought for sure was going to get you a shotgun lunch), break three metal kennels and eat through one plastic one, rip two of your claws completely out of your back paw so that I had to rush you to the hospital and clean up gallons of blood, eat countless spatulas, turn on the gas stove while we were gone, push the screen out of my window so you could jump out of it while I was in the shower, figure out how to unlock the deadbolt of the front door, along with countless other things made me sure I wasn't going to keep you.
But, alas, here we are. We have survived the first two years of you life which (hopefully) are supposed to be the worse. There is good that comes with it. No matter how much I've yelled at you, you always wag your tail when I come home, you serve as my personal 100 degree heating pad in the winter months, and on times when it really counts like when I got food poisoning from Quiznos and was puking every twenty minutes or when I was waiting for the Garbage Disposal to get home to take me to the emergency room, you quietly laid next to me and didn't demand a thing.
Here's to two more years of continued improved behavior.
Happy Birthday to Prada, Punkin, and The General.
3 comments:
Even the big dumb dumb beats me to the blog?
She's something special all right. I won't say what kind of special, but we love her anyway. Happy Birthday, Prada!
(PS - You'll be happy to know that when Papa asked Punkin who else was having a birthday today instead of going with the obvious by saying her daddy she instead exclaimed, "Prada!". The General was not impressed).
Happy Belated Birthday Prada! - Tia
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