Yesterday, Max celebrated his 12th birthday which officially makes him older than me when our respective ages are adjusted for species.
(Please insert your preferred cliche about time flying, water under bridges, speed of the passing years, etc.)
Overall, the years have been kind to the Maltburger. He acts like a much younger doggo, runs like the wind, has a voracious appetite and poops like a Prince.
(Please understand I know nothing about royal toilet behavior but I needed the alliteration.)
Max’s party featured the obligatory stupid dog costume. His feast began with a fair share of an enormous rib eye steak grilled to perfection.
That was followed by a giant peanut butter-flavored treat crowned with whipped cream and a candle.
As is customary, Max was gifted with a new Puppia harness, this time in royal blue (like a Prince.)
While the food was well received, it’s not clear that Max enjoyed all the fuss.
He treated the lighted candle as though it were Hades’ own beacon and was clearly exasperated by the photo session.
Max is a trooper so he persevered and exuded canine tolerance despite the annoying behavior of his human family.
When he got the chance to escape, he shot out the door and retreated to a favorite spot for a well-deserved birthday nap.
Later that evening, Max and the AJF polished off a Klondike ice cream bar. It was the perfect ending to a very nice dog birthday.