A dog's life, at 8

We're celebrating another milestone in our house today. It's a birthday, but there will be no cake, no candles, and no presents. We won't have a party for the birthday boy's friends, nor will we be taking him to a restaurant. Today is much like any other day in the life of our dog, Frasier, filled with naps, walks, barking fits and extended sessions of petting. Except today he turns eight years-old.

I haven't run the numbers, but if I had to guess, I'd say he's getting more than his usual amount of hugs, and as always he seems rather happy with the attention. Because every day around him, birthday or not, is special. He knows it, and so do we.

We rescued this psychotic puppy eight months after he was born and quickly taught him all the things his previous abusive family either could not or would not. The meaning of the word, "walk". How to sleep at the foot of the bed. What it felt like to be loved. Or over-loved, if there is such a thing.

As you can see here, he adapted rather nicely, and quickly became a central figure in our family. As is all too common within his breed - miniature schnauzer - he developed diabetes and now receives insulin shots every morning and night. Like clockwork, the kids have made the process their own, and what could have been a bad-news story instead turned into a critical learning experience for them.

He still barks entirely too much, smells up the joint on a rainy night and scares any jackrabbit within a 2-kilometre radius. His on-leash technique lies somewhere between downtown-drunk and a toddler on a sugar high, while every other dog owner in the neighborhood has learned to give him lots of room when they see him coming lest he make them summarily deaf.

But on this cake-free, candle-free birthday - seriously, would you want to eat a cake after he's had his way with it? - it only takes one look from this freaky little being to know how very lucky we are to have him. And how much we hold onto every day we're given with him.

Happy birthday, furry dude. Now please stop lying on my feet.

Your turn: Your birthday wish for Frasier is...?