Happy birthday to my oldest child Porter, who turned nine years old Sunday. Sunday-ish. I have no idea what day he was born, but I know it’s this month. So happy birthday, good boy!
Compared to the other dogs, Porter has had an outstanding year. No major illnesses or injuries, and his raw food diet (courtesy of Sedagive?) has whipped him into fighting shape. He has a ton more energy and plays with Pearl several times a day. He tried to play with Rosie, but she’s waaaaay to dignified to engage in such activities.
Porter as a lap dog, 2004
The years have definitely ticked by, but Porter’s personality has stayed the same. He’s a companion dog through and through. He’s built to be a buddy, and in that area he excels. In most other things, like being assertive, being protective, being a watchdog, he’s miserable.
But I got him to love and to return love, and he’s exceeded even my overly demanding expectations.
Happy birthday to my son. I love you, buddy.
This is the part of every milestone dog post where I encourage people to adopt instead of buying a pet. Porter and his littermates were found in a cardboard box, and only he and two siblings survived. There are animals that need your help and your love, and all they cost is an adoption fee that goes to support places that nurse castaways back to health.