December 22, 2019

White Dog was in my arms as we administered her discus compositum and Steve gave her a gentle heat massage to her spine and back legs. It was a quiet moment of just we three…the others had lost interest or were avoiding the strange device that might “attack” them next.


“Happy Birthday, Baby Girl, Little White Dog of My Heart,” I whispered into her ear. “Where have all of the years flown? How much life mileage have we walked together? I just want to thank you for sharing my journey, never saying no or turning back or complaining. You are my daemon and are so very cherished.” WD squirmed uncomfortable with gushy mom.

Steve paused in the massage to kiss her forehead. “You are fifteen today. I still remember that first day that you came to us so clearly; you were 8 weeks old and the tiniest ball of cotton. I could not stop smiling at you.” He turned off the massager. “I have a special breakfast planned for you and your siblings to start the day on a celebratory note. How does scrambled eggs and trout sound? With a bite or two of cinnamon cake after? We will sneak out for a morning ride and trip to the park, just the two of us. Then, I think, the White Dog Army, has a special day planned to honor you but I won’t give away their surprises.

Steve and WD walked out. I could hear the raucous “Happy Birthday White Dog” song that seemed to have fifteen verses, one for each year of her life, with different members of the Army taking turns with solos. 

Then it was silent. “hmmm,” I smiled to myself, “must be time for breakfast. No complaining, gee I am surprised.”  

Happy Birthday Siku Marie, Queen of the White Dog Army...and of my heart!

Later, when she and Steve returned from their ride...with hamburgers to share, I took a moment while the others were distracted to sing MY, OUR song to her: https://youtu.be/8fM9e9nU0oA