Happy 2nd Birthday Perry!

Two years ago today, somewhere in northern California, five puppies were born to proud mom Fiona and deadbeat dad Timmy, a Bedlington who had already skipped town. There were two girl puppies and three boys, but two of the boys died very early on. One blue boy was left, and since I had already put down a non-refundable $400 deposit, that meant he was mine. About 8 weeks in, he traveled by airplane to Lancaster, PA, along with his sister, Callie, to the home of another breeder, where he would await my arrival via red Mustang because that was the only car they had left at Hertz that weekend. Aliza and I picked him up, we drove to New Jersey to introduce him to his step-siblings Hailey and Lamb Choppe, and it was there that Uncle Lambo kept on sniffing his ear and diagnosed him with an ear infection. He was, from the beginning, a total money pit. But every cent I've ever paid or ever will pay for that dog is worth it. I'd even give up the contents of my ING Savings account for him, and that's pretty serious considering my obscene wealth.

According to Greg the dogwalker who also does tarot readings and dream interpretations, Perry is an old soul. He's on his sixth and final life as a dog, because after this life he will be done paying for the sins he committed while human. I feel lucky that I get to share his last dog life, and hope that whomever is in charge of reincarnation sees that he is being a very good boy. Happy second birthday, Perry. Kisses.