Scooter says,

“If you don’t think this is wonderful—my receiving my first ever letter in the mail—then I’m convinced you haven’t yet experienced a “first.” Or for shame, you’ve had so many “firsts” that you’ve lost the thrill. I’ve never experienced a loss of thrill, but I’m told it can happen.

I am now 22-months old, and practically every day of those months has exposed me (and my human family) to some sort of “first,” and well, right, some sort of thrill. You may remember the first Lambchop I eviscerated, the first rare filet I lifted off a dinner plate, the first time I climbed up into the lining under the Tempur-Pedic mattress and had a hard time finding my way out; my first boat ride, my first glimpse of a Heron. “What is that thing!” I attempted to shout the frightening thing into non-existence with my powerful voice as my parents attempted calm. Imagine it, calling for calm, in the face of such deceptively slender danger! 

Come August 24th, when I turn two-years-old, it is likely that the parent who writes my life story might stop her frequent scribbling about the increments of my growth, physical and otherwise. She seems ready, rather, to divulge some truths about me that pertain to my nature rather than my age. She had a doozy of an example of just such a thing recently, an unacceptable practice of mine that is maturing into a bad habit, but before she could shape in her mind just how to report without embarrassing or offending me, the mail arrived, and in it, a letter to Me!

A First!   (Saved by the mail!)

Here’s the story I’m happy to have told today. 

Recently, my mom and I made some sourdough-pumpkin-peanut-butter dog treats. My human dad declared these crunchy bits delicious, and I agreed. We decided to share some of these treats with fellow canine residents of Heron’s Key. We haven’t yet finished all our deliveries but look! Can you believe it? I am the recipient of a courtesy mostly fallen out of practice in recent years: A Thank You note. It came from a fellow canine resident here in our apartment complex. Speaking honestly, I am not well acquainted with him but my mom reminds me that he is a very kind sort. Today I will accept her assessment because I’m fairly sure that in her next PUPPY blog post, she means to expose three aspects of my nature considered essential by me (and my goldendoodle sort), but annoying and unacceptable by the two human members of my family—and if my mom speaks honestly—other friends and associates agree. That is not easy to hear, you know.

So, today, before my mom moves toward writing true confessions, let us simply bathe our minds in the magic of the unexpected: a Thank You card from Lobo. 

Sincerely, Scooter Sublime Pine