Today is Georgia’s birthday. She turned 6 years old. She acts like a puppy though, to make up for the puppyhood she never had, I guess.

She might never become a so-called “normal” dog, she might develop an unreasonable fear of any object at any given time, she might poop whenever she sees another person other than me for the rest of her life, she might dig holes in the yard to get buried rocks and such, she might keep me awake all night stepping, sitting, standing on my body during thunderstorms, she might smear her poop all over my car every single time she’s in it. She might always be somewhat not quite there yet.

But she doesn’t fear poop at home at all any more even when I’m angry and yell on the phone. She jumps and circles with such unsuppressable and joyful barks that echoes through the whole neighborhood whenever I get home after hours of absence or after 2 minutes to fetch my mails. She runs to me at full speed to get some lovin’ she so very much deserves for having peed or pooped in the yard. She doesn’t try to run away from me when I approach her by walking as opposed to crawling. She SITS when she wants her neck scratched. She presents me her hiney to be scratched so that she can start the butt dance. She stalks and play attacks other dogs and even me.

She’s not quite there yet and she might never get there, but it’s more than enough for me.

I love her.

Happy Birthday, Georgia!