Happy birfday to me... (cha, cha, cha!).  Happy birfday to me...(cha, cha, cha!)  Happy BIRFDAY to the most-awesomest-fluffiest-gorgeous Mally on the pla-net....  Happy birfday to me! (cha, cha, cha!)What a great morning! I'm three years old today!  Yep... the big OH-THREE.  Or, maybe that's 21?  If it is, shouldn't I get to share that beer with dad?  I dunno. Nevermind the sun is barely awake yet. But I'm spending the day with my family, which is going to be the BEST!  I bet we go to the park and get ice cream and a new bone and.... Hey, everyone is up!  They're up and getting dressed to celebrate my birthday.  But wait! What's this?  Where is everyone going?  Aren't we going to the park today? Mom? Dad?  She keeps saying something about a "ball tournament" and "out of town."

And there they go....out the door... without me. Sigh.

Maybe they forgot?  No, surely not.  Mom plans this day for me every year.  Maybe they're going to get presents?  Yeah, that's it.  I'll just wait right here by the door.

I see that my brother who sleeps a lot is still here.  And here comes his girlfriend who plays with me all the time. She likes me.  She's cool.  She'll celebrate with me!  But wait!  They're leaving too. What is going on here?

I can't believe I'm being left alone with Chloe on my birthday. All she does is bounce on my head. These people better make it up to me or I'm going to pee in ALL of dad's shoes!  Oh well... SQUIRREL!

Everything tastes better with dog hair in it!

I've heard my hu-mom say this a thousand times, but never was it quite so evident than last Sunday during our morning cuddle time.  Hu-dad brought mom her coffee in bed (which seemed to surprise mom), and immediately after taking a sip, she practically sputtered and choked the entire contents all over my beautiful coat. Apparently, during my spa/grooming session in the middle of the kitchen floor the night before, portions of my beauteous coat floated delicately into the coffee cups perched and ready on the counter.  Dad, once again disregarding the rules of Malamute living, did not rinse the cup before pouring mom hers.  Hence the freakishly inadequate Heimlich Maneuver I witnessed as I was abruptly awoke from a great Sunday morning dream.

Chloe, ever the diva of the family, gave us all her "I'm better than you" growl and hopped off the bed, but I had to see what all the fuss was about.  Since I've been sick I tend to be a little more "in your face" with my humans.  So I stepped across the bed, apparently on mom's leg because I heard her "OW!" loud and clear and got up real close like to her face to sniff that cup and see what it was all about.  And then it hit me.  The urge.  The urge that has been plaguing me every morning since the Spring.  The urge...to sneeze.

Coffee. Everywhere.  Mom. Yelling. Dad. Laughing. Chloe. Growling.  Me?  Well I was just trying to keep my balance as my head was thrashing about from the maximum force of air through my nose.  Once I was sure all the snot was completely off my face and onto mom's pajamas, I decided I'd had enough of this hijinkery and made way for the back door.  Mom stomped right behind me, keeping up every step of the way muttering to herself something about the things she does for me.  Imagine my surprise when I heard the door slam as I walked out into the cool autumn air.  What. No treat?  Dang it.