Our first child is twelve today (we think. Not 100% sure because we are terrible at keeping track of this stuff) Our poor, sweet, beleaguered dog who bounded in to our lives as a little brown furball is now relegated to third place in hierarchy by two interloping humans.
She's had Lyme Disease, a splenectomy, and an unfortunate fear of car alarms. Thank god for doggy Prozac. Nowadays she mostly rotates between various sleeping stations throughout the house as she tries to avoid being stepped on (unsuccessfully).
Still, occasionally she surprises us with such puppy-like feats of playfulness that we can't believe she's actually 12.
We celebrated with cheese. On cream cheese. HAPPY BIRTHDAY GRACIE WHIPPLE
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