A Most Contented Dog

Ranger turned the big 1-2 today. 

Yep. My baby boy is twelve years old. Which makes him eighty-four in dog years. Yikes. 

To celebrate his birthday, I treated Ranger to a long, lovely walk in the late afternoon sunshine. 

I know. We do that every day. 

But back at home, my Irish lad was delighted and surprised when I served him a celebratory feast of ground beef, cooked to perfection and served over a bed of his usual dry dog food. 

He devoured every morsel with considerable enthusiasm.

And while that may seem like a bare-bones birthday, even for a dog, the truth is this. 

There's not a single thing more in this life that Ranger could want. He is, to be sure, a most contented dog.