Mammal Mondays: Happy Birthday Sherman!


The booger boy is one year old as of June 19th. I realize I’m writing this post a little bit late, but I thought putting the dog’s birthday ahead of Fathers’ Day would be in poor taste. Happy (slightly belated) birthday to the blue speckled pup.

Sherman started out looking like this:

Little monster at ten days old.

Today, my birthday boy is a bunch bigger but just as handsome.

Sherm at 52 weeks, in his handsome birthday collar.

There was a celebration of sorts in the dollhouse today. Now, truly, I’m not one of those crazy pet owners who believes the dog understands the concept of birthdays, or of parties. We had a little birthday party because we, the humans, wanted to mark the occasion. Mark it we did.

For his birthday, I bought Sherman a seatbelt harness for riding in the car so he can now sit safely on the backseat instead of rolling around town locked in the kennel in the back of the Element. He has yet to experience the joy of riding through the summer with the bugs in his teeth wind in his ears, but it’s coming as soon as it stops pouring rain every stinking day.

I also made a donation in Sherman’s name to the Edmonton Humane Society. I plan to support the Humane Society each year on Sherman’s birthday with whatever I can afford. This year, money is very tight and my donation is modest, but it’s the sort of thing where every little lump helps.

The Electrician bought Sherman a snazzy new blue collar and a new friend we’re calling Stanley. Stanley is a huge purple stegosaurus, and The Electrician bought him largely because stegosauruses (stegosauri?) are my favorite breed of terrible lizard.

Stanley, meet Sherman. (My money's on the dog).

Sherman and Stanley have battled most of the day for control of the prime territory known as the livingroom floor around here. Poor Stanley really doesn’t stand a chance, given that his herbivorous nature makes him unskilled in fang-to-fang combat. He’s also at a significant disadvantage because there is a squeaky bulb in each of his spine fins. So far, though, our purple reptilian friend is holding on.

The death spoon.

Here’s the part where the folks who don’t “get” dog people start rolling their eyes. Got your socket muscles ready, nonbelievers?

I made Sherman something I’m calling a “pupcake” for his birthday. I dreamed it up when I couldn’t sleep last night. It’s made mostly out of dog food and frosted with mashed potatoes and peanut butter. I think it looks pretty nifty.

Sherman was a happy birthday boy.

Before you send those emails to PETA, please note that everything on that plate is edible and safe for canines, even the puparoni candle with cheddar and havarti flame. Sherman loved it! I checked my camera after the cake smash session ended, and I took 119 photos of the shenanigans today. Oy. Now I’m rolling my own eyes.

For other dog-crazy folks out there, I’m writing an instructional post tomorrow so you too can make a “pupcake” and be the ridicule envy of all your friends.  Come on back to see how it’s done. Be forewarned that baking it will create an unholy stink in your house.

After knowing him for a year less eight weeks, I am so pleased with the way my blue speckled pup is turning out. He’s as friendly as all get out, and he tries really hard to listen. Sherman is gentle with kitties, other dogs and everybody he meets. To an extent he’s still in that frantic puppy stage where a new person in the house has a similar effect on Sherman as giving chocolate covered expresso beans and a Dr. Pepper to a three year old, but we’re getting there.

Sherman is a nifty dog. I’m looking forward to many more years with him.

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