Rosie turned three years old yesterday. Like every other year, I completely forgot it was her birthday. She's a dog, she can't remind me of such things. I always think I'll "celebrate" with her on her adoption day, which is in October, but that day always comes and goes without any recognition. She doesn't seem to mind.
Here's the thing about dogs: puppies are stupid cute and hilarious to watch BUT they are also ornery and bratty and wiggly and get into everything.
But dogs? Dogs are awesome. Rosie is supremely awesome. She's really quirky and funny and damn that dog is smart. She is sweet and gentle. She's loves to be loved but never kisses your face (unless you have a beard). She is super fast at running when chasing a ball, but drags behind me when we actually run. She loves her mama the most, but has a crush on Matt. She loves to smell the flowers on the front porch and in vases around the house. She will only eat her dinner when someone is in the kitchen with her. She lets little dogs, puppies and babies tug on her ears. She loves watching airplanes fly by. She is really good at freaking out unwanted solicitors that come to the door. She loves boat rides and swimming. She lets me tie bows on her head and put her hair in pigtails. She thinks everything is better when it's done outdoors. She's a girl after my own heart and guess what Rose? It's yours.
So happy birthday to my best girl, my squeezie dog, my Rosie.
"Now my life is rosy, since I found my Rosie. With a girl like Rosie, how can I be blue?" - The song I sing to Rosie every day, from Bye Bye Birdie.