Best. Dog. Ever.

Before we begin our post proper...

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

(Ahem.)

Today is Buffy's birthday!

Yup, March 10 is the day we decided the Best Dog Ever needed a birthday, and what better day to celebrate than on the same day you decide to create the birthday? Why waste time?

See, we had to create a birthday for her because she was used. She came to us pre-owned by the pastor's family, whose move to a new city did not include a dog. Free dogs do not come with birthdays - that's for the fancy ones that you actually pony up a bit of cash for.

In this picture (the only one I can find of her, but holy smokes is it not the funniest one ever??), she is still pretty svelte. This is because when we got her, she was extremely well-trained. She had a little rug for the corner to which she obediently headed at mealtime. People food was verboten. She was used to long, skinny-dog-making walks.

Yeah, that all lasted for about a month.

Within a few days, she was edging towards our chairs (possibly because we solicited her with handouts). Within a few weeks, she was sitting right beside us, waiting for the inevitable broccoli sneak. Within months, she had her front paws up on your chair, nudging her nose beneath your arm and moving it out of the way so she could get closer to your plate.

(True story: After Buffy died, my mom couldn't eat the last bite of her toast for months. It was the "Buffy bite" and it lay untouched on that plate, a mini memento mori for us all.)

The more we loved her, the fatter she got. Pretty soon she was busting out of her little red sweaters.

But she was great. Sweet, gentle, and loving. She could be a bit shy, and when she got a haircut at the groomers, she spent the day under the open dishwasher door because she was embarrassed.

She'd lie beside you on the couch until she got unbearably hot. But she loved you so much, she'd just try to pant herself cool. (Of course, she was so rotund that she just ended up shaking the couch. Which made it a jiggly, dog-breath couch of happiness.)

Buffy died right before I left home, so in some ways, I've often associated her death with the beginning of my grown-up life. She was the only dog I've ever owned. And probably ever will, since I both my husband and son are severely allergic. Also? I can barely take care of my munchkins, and never remember to take them for walks; I'm not a good dog mommy.

But that's okay - Buffy gave me enough doggy love to last my whole life.

(P.S. I think my mom made those sweatshirts. In case you were wondering.)