We celebrated Nigra's fourth birthday. We cleaned, weeded, mulched and had family over. The day started at 9 a.m. where we pulled grass and dismembered our hands, aggravating my carpel tunnel syndrom (I wore my bands last night, one came off, while the other hand stretched out over my bed table and wacked over the glass lotion bottle).
But we did this for Nigra. Steph was listening to the radio and one of the DJ's said that dog parties were stupid.
I don't think the five dogs at our house last night thought so. Steph baked blueberry "pup" cupcakes, topped with regular yogurt, and each dog devoured it. Nigra posed for her pictures while opening her present -- a bag full of treats. Even as we sang "Happy Birthday" to Nigra, when we all got to her name, he head popped up and she looked all around.
The dogs ran around all evening, while we grilled bruschetta chicken on the grill.
People consider dogs part of the family, right? Why not celebrate them.