When I was one,
I had just begun.
When I was two,
I was nearly new.
When I was three,
I was hardly me.
When I was four,
I was not much more.
When I was five,
I was just alive.
But now I am six,
I'm as clever as clever.
So I think I'll be six
now and forever.
--A. A. Milne
Of course, six in dog years is something like forty in human years, but if Joey is as long-lived as my beloved William, who came just shy of reaching the remarkable age of seventeen, Joey and I have at least a decade of happy days before us.
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He's come a long way in a short time, from seeming terror towards strangers to now, occasionally, licking the odd hand. A marvelous transformation.
ReplyDeleteThe Milne poem reminds me of "The Pogo Birthday Song" (I may have the lyrics a bit off.)
ReplyDeleteOnce you were one, dear birthday friend
In spite of purple weather.
Now you are two and near the end
Since we grew some together.
How fearful thou, forsooth for you
For soon you will be more
But fore one can be three, be two
Before be five, be four.
(Or words to that effect.)
Happy Birthday, Joey!