I don’t always turn 11…

…but when I do, I get a big bone.

This picture was taken after 40 minutes of Dex trudging around the yard, trying to find the best spot to hide his birthday bone (NOT a euphemism). Even with all of the other dogs inside, poor Dex couldn’t just settle down and enjoy his bone until he’d found and discarded no less than 4 perfectly good hiding spots for his prize.

Just stopping by to say hello, dust some cobwebs off, and wish my best old man Dexter a happy 11th birthday. It’s not every day your dog turns 11, so we had a Birthday Blowout Week which included Dex’s first minor league baseball game, where he barked at the hot dog vendor.

And the t-shirt gun.

And the crack of the bat.

And pretty much everything else.

But you know? Fuck it. Bark your head off, old man. You’ve earned it.

Listen. Stop following me. Seriously. I gotta hide this thing.

 

 

 

7 thoughts on “I don’t always turn 11…

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