Yesterday was our dogs' twelfth birthdays. We naturally sang "Happy Birthday" to them, and after dinner, we all watched "Longmire" and ate popcorn. They were in heaven, because popcorn was raining from the sky or at least above their heads. They also liked the Longmire episode, followed by an episode of "Death in Paradise". Who doesn't like the island life? Well, okay, they've never been to the Carribean, but then, neither have we. It doesn't stop us from dreaming. And both detectives always get their man, or woman, as the case may be. The dogs express their pleasure in oblique ways. The other night we didn't go upstairs after dinner, and the next night our female dog led our male dog up the stairs before us, as if to say: come on, get with the program, are you forgetting our routine?
I don't actually know if they knew it was their birthdays, but they probably guessed something was off. All that singing and more popcorn than they'd ever consumed in their lives. They may have been confused, but it was a happy confusion, and I bet their dreams were golden.
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