This little brown-faced ball of energy turns one today.
We'd like to say she's one year wiser, but that'd be, well, lying. She's pretty much every bit as insane as the day we brought her home.
My kids all begged for me to write a birthday post similar to the ones I do for them. Seeing as I am her primary caregiver - and, therefore - the only person who deals with her neuroses, energy, and naughtiness on a daily basis, I couldn't quite bring myself to do it.
But I sure do love her.
In spite of her mad, maniacal self.
She and I walk every day for about 45 minutes to an hour. It is a time I have truly come to enjoy. I put the headphones in my ears and off we go in the early morning hours. Sometimes she does really well and heels when I ask, her eager tail wagging as we make our way down the street.
Other times, I am prying her jaws open to pull out cigarette butts, dead rabbits, and, often, her own feces.
Those are not my favorite days.
But once in a while, she follows me in and sits at my feet while I work. Or she eagerly tags along as I clean and straighten the house. She fixes her big brown eyes on me as though I'm the most fascinating creature she's ever beheld. She obeys my every command and cannot wait to ride in the car when it's time to pick up the kids.
The best is when I catch her in a sleepy mood, and she'll love on me with all the affection that hides secretly beneath her wild and crazy exterior. She'll smile and stretch and my heart just melts at the sight of her. I scratch her ears, rub her belly, and I'm positive that she knows just how much I love her.
Those are my favorite days.
Happy birthday, Indiana. You crazy, ding-dong weirdo.