I'm glad your attempts at dislocating my shoulder while I hold your leash on walks are getting fewer.
I don't love it when you dig holes in the yard.
I do not enjoy the dog hair tumbleweeds that blow through the backyard in the breeze.
I think you smell.
I'm not excited about how frequently I have to wash your snot off the sliding glass door.
I don't love finding your hair in my food.
I like how you lick everyone.
I don't think it's cool that you've given up on "fetch".
Thank you for allowing Jude to ride you and pull your tail.
Thank you for making my kids giggle.
I think it is funny when you swim around aimlessly in the pond and jump into water troughs. Even though they make you smell really bad. Really. Bad.
Thanks for making me feel a little bit safer when my hubby is away for the night on business.
Do you think you could poop less?
I think it is gross when you roll around on dead animals.
I like to pretend that the black spot on your tongue is a tatoo.
In Jude's words, "You are my black dog."
I don't hate you anymore, so happy birthday.