May 7 was a big day in the MFW household. No, we didn’t finish the barn, get new cows, or plant all the corn.
More important than that.
Yesterday this furry little fella turned two!
Even though Dairy Man keeps reminding me that 2 is really 14 in dog years and Jersey’s getting older, it seems like just yesterday that he was a timid baby ball of fur adjusting to farm life.
I still view Jersey the dog as my fluffy little child …er… puppy. I love him just a little too much.
Need more proof? While Dairy Man was hard at work strip tilling the fields last night, Jersey and I celebrated his two years of life at a party with his aunt Amber and cousin Maggie.
Can’t you see the family resemblance?
Jersey, like so many human children before him, had the misfortune to be born during planting season, harvest season, or summer.
Thus, he celebrated his birthday sans father figure. You really have to hope for rain if you want the farmers to come in for birthday cake.
But Jersey didn’t seem to mind once he was chowing down on a banana peanut butter pupcake.
Yes. I am that crazy dog person who throws my pup a birthday party. It was delightful, complete with party hats, wrapped presents, guest goodie bags, and canine baked goods. Don’t judge me.
Jersey and I are an anomaly in the farming world.
Most farm dogs live outside, chase cows, and inevitably meet untimely ends (by tractors, skidsters, cars, larger animals, etc.). But Jersey is not a farm dog. I watch him like a hawk. My pup sleeps next to our bed, has his own chair, and will live forever.
Dairy Man and his farming family think my puplove is a little crazy, but I’ve never been a normal farm wife.
The key, DM, is to just accept it. And yes, that does mean I would like to revisit the doggy bowtie discussion. Jersey would look so dapper…