Happy birthday, ol’ dog

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 08/04/2019 (2669 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

Our main dog, a small white creature that resembles a cross between a throw pillow and a cotton swab, turned 10 years old last week.

Yes, we had a party. Well, sort of. There was cake and presents and a smattering of women of a certain age who made a fuss over him.

I know what some of you are thinking. You are thinking: “Really, Doug? You had a birthday party for your (insert bad word here) dog?”

Well, yes, Mr. or Mrs. Crankypants, that is exactly what I sort of did. It may surprise you to learn this, but throwing a party on your dog’s special day has become a thing.

In the U.S. alone, an estimated 30 million dog owners celebrate their canine companions’ birthday. If you Google the words “celebrate your dog’s birthday,” you will get 232,000,000 results in 0.55 seconds, because that’s what I did a few minutes ago and that’s what I got.

According to a story I just read in Britain’s Daily Mail, a 2017 study by pet food maker Lily’s Kitchen found that a whopping 75 per cent of dog owners celebrate their pooch’s birthday, with 58 per cent going as far as singing the Happy Birthday song to their beloved mutt.

“The survey found we treat our dogs similarly to how we’d treat our children with 51 per cent of owners throwing their canine a birthday party,” the story barked.

“More than half of owners, 55 per cent, prepare a special birthday meal for their canine companion based on their favourite meal. Meat loaf, fish cakes and chicken stew are just some of the homemade dinner favourites served up at our dogs’ parties.”

The point — assuming I have one — would appear to be that dog owners are even more insane than we thought they were at the beginning of this column.

Which brings us back to last week’s birthday soiree for my main dog, Bogey. When the dogs and I jumped out of bed that morning, the first thing I did was call my wife to see what arrangements she had made for the big day.

“I haven’t arranged anything,” is what my wife told me when I called her office.

“He’s a dog. And my women’s knitting circle is meeting at our house tonight anyway.”

I paused for a moment and replied: “Did you bake a cake for Bogey?”

“No,” my wife fired back, “because I am not clinically insane.”

I heaved a disapproving sigh. “No problem,” I said.

“As soon as I finish writing my column, I’ll head to the grocery store and buy him a cake.”

And that’s what I did. After writing my Saturday feature — which was about people stripping off their clothes to protest all manner of things — I drove to the Safeway up the street, where I purchased a large carrot cake festooned with faux carrots made from orange and green icing.

Cake in hand, I marched over to the nearby pet store and spent a good 30 minutes selecting a few appropriate dog toys — a cute stuffed bunny with chewable ears, and what I believe to be some kind of mutant skinny elephant toy.

By the time I got home, my wife had returned from work and was setting up for her women’s knitting evening. Before the knitters arrived, we fed our dogs and gave Bogey his presents.

Unfortunately, our emergency backup dog, Juno, a sort of apricot-coloured toothless creature that resembles an adorable street urchin in a school production of Oliver Twist, has appointed herself the “Fun Police,” which means whenever another dog tries to play with a toy, she will confiscate it and run away.

So Bogey didn’t get to enjoy his toys, but both dogs were beyond excited when we served them small slices of the carrot cake, which I believe is a much healthier canine option than any other baked good on the market.

When the knitting group arrived, Bogey and Juno greeted each of the women with the same sort of howling, drooling excitement you would display welcoming long-lost relatives.

Due to the fact Bogey and I are both of the guy gender and have zero interest in the fine art of knitting, we were banished to the den to enjoy snacks and watch the latest instalment of the boxing movies wherein an aging Rocky Balboa teaches the ropes to the well-muscled son of his late rival, Apollo Creed.

At one point, Bogey and I walked out to stare at the knitting women, and to suggest that perhaps they would enjoy a slice of the canine carrot cake. As generous as that offer was, it was quickly rejected.

“That’s a store-bought cake,” my wife, She Who Must Not Be Named, sniffed as dozens of knitting needles click-clacked in the background. “We have lots of fresh baking. You guys should go back in the den and finish watching your movie.”

So that’s what we did. And Bogey and I both got a little misty-eyed watching Adonis, the son of Apollo Creed, win the world championship by beating the son of the creepy Russian guy that killed his dad, if you follow my plot summary.

The point is, based on my research, everyone and their dog is celebrating their dog’s birthday. So drop whatever you are doing and head to the store to buy your dog a delicious cake.

I strongly suggest you forget lighting birthday candles, however, because a responsible pet owner has to draw the line somewhere.

doug.speirs@freepress.mb.ca