Is it bad that I had to search the site for “Happy Birthday, Sophie” so I could remember how old the dog turned yesterday?
As we were getting ready for bed, Tucker stuck his head out of the bathroom and said, “You realize that dog’s TEN now, right?
“No. She’s nine. Really. I think. OK. I’m not sure.”
We then spent at least five minutes trying to figure out how old this damn dog happens to be. Tucker and I do this exact same thing when we try to figure out how long we’ve been married. Pretty sure we should start writing this stuff down.
So, Sophie, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, you bitch. That’s funny because she’s a girl dog and a pain in our asses.