R worked hard on his party invitation.
They delivered them to two neighbor families.
She also worked hard on a sign and decorations for his party. A recurring theme in all his party decorations is, "The biggest bone in the WORLD!" I love to see her testing the limits of the paper to make the bone as big as she can imagine.
She made him a card. She had this all planned out months ago. She has been asking me about Charlie's first birthday party since we first got him.
The guests arrive!
It was a very fancy party.
We made him a birthday cake from a recipe I found on the internet, with chicken baby food, whole wheat flour, carrots, and banana/peanut butter frosting. The humans had carrot cupcakes.
Charlie really didn't like the "party" part of his party. I tried to be sensitive to that, to give the kids their big moment, but not freak Charlie out too much. He loves kids, loves attention, loves to play, but singing and the candle flame and Dan having to hold him because a couple of the neighbor kids are afraid of dogs . . . he was a very good sport. He did not enjoy it.
The kids sang happy birthday, then we hustled him outside so the dog-lovers could play with him and the not-so-sure-about-dogs kids could watch him through the glass door if they would rather.
He did really like his cake.
He loves kids, loves all people so much that I am impressed when he follows his training and doesn't jump on them. He just quietly explodes inside his body, but from the outside, he is perfectly behaved.
I think because he is a border collie, and feels like he is in charge of everyone on his property and must know where they are at all times and protect them against unexpected dangers like open flames and loud noises, he especially appreciates the quiet aftermath of a party.
Charlie is one of those remember-all-your-life dogs. I already had one of those, another border collie named Gracie. I didn't think I would get another one. I wasn't expecting it. I was expecting a companion for R and a dog we could all run and walk and play with. For awhile, that's what he was. A funny and beautiful little puppy, who made us all laugh and fit right in to his space in our house and took to his training like the brilliant dog that he is. When he got his second set of puppy shots, it must have really hurt. He climbed on me, up me, as far as he could go, and buried his head in my neck and then relaxed his body like he thought he was safe. I remember thinking right then, oh no, this is not going to be a dog that I love like that. Who utterly breaks your heart if he gets hurt or sick or dies. I remember steeling myself against it, trying to get back to the much easier role of detached friend and care-giver, which I was taking on for the sake of my daughter, you know. But of course, they are all dogs that you love "like that." Especially Charlie.
