Look, I know that turning 11 is not a big deal. It’s not like turning 10. Ten is important. Eleven is just another year. I know that.
But you’d think I’d at least get a birthday treat! You’d think there’d be a little present or something. Maybe a special meal.
At least a birthday tummy tickle!
Did I get any of that? No I did not! I wasn’t even home for my birthday! I was shuttled off to camp and no one cared it was my birthday at all!
So I’ve been protesting. Loudly and often. I think mama gets it now and maybe she’s a tiny bit contrite. But I bark to wake her up every day anyway, just to be sure she doesn’t forget.
I haven’t been on any walks or to any parks or on any adventures since they got home either. I told mama last night that she better come up with a fun trip for me pretty soon or I was going to go on permanent strike. No more pictures until we do something fun.
I’m not kidding.
PS: Merry Christmas to all of you. I’m sure she’ll shape up before the holidays.