happy birthday little man

Today you are ten years old and that makes you a whooping seventy seven years old in doggy years! You were such a little furbaby when you came to live at our house, barely five pounds soaking wet. One day your Human Father came home from a South Dakota hunting trip. The pheasants were plentiful that year and he brought home his limit of headless, bloody birds. He was busy arranging them on the garage floor and I was getting ready to take yet another dead bird picture when you snatched one and managed to lug it upstairs. Here you were, running through the house with that huge pheasant in your mouth and your Human Father chasing after you. I collapsed on the couch laughing at you.
 Make God grant you seventy seven more my little friend!