Or should I say, Betsy Banana Tickle?
Or Betsy Cake Potato?
Sweet doggie, you have had all of those names over the last year.
Who knows what your name was before we met you on the playground the day after the Fourth of July last year? We don’t even know if you came from an English, Spanish, or Creole home. Everything we know about you was learned during this year you spent in our family.
You are helpful…
…for a price.
You inspired love and devotion from Jack, who is head-over-heels for you, baby-babble talking to you with nonstop affection.
And brought out the responsible side in Max, always eager to feed you or hold your leash. At one point when our whole family was driving him crazy, I told Max you would be a good listener.
And you were.
Mostly, you just like playing with the whole family outside. During those times you tear around the yard in mad figure 8’s before lazying in the shade with me. We don’t have any pictures of that, too blurry.
As for Andres, naturally he is your favorite. Like clockwork, you wait at the door for Daddy to come home. Your timing is more precise than the commuter train he rides, but you wait patiently, staring at the door that will eventually open with your best friend.
I am the one who asked the question a year ago,
Should we keep her?
It was a lark. An expense we didn’t need. Another hassle to add to our chaotic life.
The final piece of a puzzle that makes the whole picture fit snuggly together.
Happy birthday, Betsy. Thanks for a wonderful year together. We love you.
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