A whippet emotes

Today is my 7th birthday. That is 7 long years during which Master and Mistress have benefited from my presence in their lives and during which I have been endlessly patient with their many idiosyncrasies and foibles. Apparently 7 years of a dog’s life is equivalent to 49 human years, so I did not at all appreciate Master’s comment earlier today that my time with him felt like every bit of 49 years because I was showing little sign of graduating from skittish adolescence into some semblance of sensible mature adulthood. I think the fact that we have recently all been around each other too much is making him grumpy.

You would imagine that, this being my birthday, some sort of special ceremony or better still some rather special celebratory biscuit might have been in order. But no. This was a day of routine, routine and more routine. Early morning walk; small slice of carrot grudgingly given; short sleep; small treat from the postman who gives treats (some don’t); short sleep: afternoon walk; small sprinkling of dry food; bonio; chew; and now, I am waiting for Master to throw balls for me. He is good at getting the balls to bounce in the air so that I can grab them mid-flight. I really enjoy that but the throw balls sessions never go on long enough for me. I suppose that’s because Master is getting on a bit now – he is certainly more than 49 human years old. After we’ve done that I will rest a bit until dark. Perhaps it is living with me that is making him look old.

Today has been warm and pleasant – just the weather for a whippet to enjoy his birthday lying on his garden bed. Even Master was seen to smile briefly as he was sitting having his tea and biscuit in the garden, with me at his feet. There is always a slight chance that he might “accidentally” drop a corner of biscuit on the ground, so it is important that I am there  to sweep it up. Unfortunately, Mistress is usually ready to pounce if it looks as though I’m about to do this. She caught me successfully chewing my way through a human biscuit a few evenings back and even now I can still hear her anger ringing in my ears.

So there it is. Another birthday gone. Another day of predictable routine which, despite my protestations, is probably just how I like it.