Happy Birthday, Mabel!

Mabel is 9 today. Or 63.

We brought her home in the fall of 2000. 

She was nothing but a poof of fur and she was a delight to our souls.

I would take her Christmas picture by the Christmas tree each year.

We would bathe her at least once each calendar year.

We would play with her.

We would feed her dog treats.

We would take her swimming.

We had a lot of time on our hands.

Now she is old. 

And she has nothing to look forward to, but the occasional crust dropping from the high chair. 

She stares out the window wondering what has become of her life.

I am sure she resents the children.

She looks at us with those big, sad eyes, "Really?  Did you need 4?"

Sorry, Mabes.

But this weekend, I am happy to announce that we played with her!

We (and when I say we, I mean the kids) tossed sticks into the river for her to fetch.

 She had the time of her life.

Poor, old dear.

 She is a good dog.

Although I could do without all that shedding.

She lets the kids pull on her and ride her and step on her.

She is used to the chaos and sleeps all day through it.

And she is my vaccuum cleaner after each meal.

For that fact alone, I will forever love her.

Happy Birthday, Miss Mabel!