Still, Dad seems to be keeping things fun at your end. In fact, I have a sneaky suspicion you two are having more fun without me than when I am there. I know dad says he's tearing his hair out over your demanding ways, but we all know that's a big fib as he doesn't have any hair left to tear out.
The first time we met you, you were a tiny 4 week old pup, one of 3 girls and 5 boys. I picked you up and you did a big puddle all over my hand. But you were such a cute little sausage I didn't mind. Your fur-Dad, Zippo, was stunningly handsome and made a grand entrance. He walked straight up to your human Dad and peed up his trouser leg. Meanwhile, your fur-mum, Blade, was being a gentle sweetie whilst sneakily raiding the rubbish bin. Sound familiar? By the way, bet you didn't know that your fur-dad's grandmother was Best of Breed at Crufts. We didn't tell you before because we didn't want you to get too self-important.
The next time we met you were 7 weeks old. We had to choose between you and your little sister, the little tiny one. You were both marching around bossing us all with your needle teeth and begging attention from the Jack Russell terrier on the farm. But something just made us choose you, and so you came home with us. And life has been so much better since (despite the i-pod chewing and the cat chasing).
Happy birthday sweetie pup.