Terrible Twos

On April 7th, our beloved Milton turned TWO!  Yes, two.  It is incredibly difficult to fathom that this little man has been such a major part of our lives for so long.  Did we celebrate with a massive party just like last year -- 24 humans and 13 dogs?  Sadly, no.  Things were kept much more low-key.  We didn't want Milton to expect "spectacular!" for each and every event in his life although our little man does deserve it.

Milton's birthday celebratory night began with a few silly photos of him in his special hat.

Up close - We turned the hat backwards, so you can no longer see the big number "1."

Milton and Daddy

I don't know if you can tell this from the pictures, but Milton hates his special hat.  After Jeff and Milt allotted me my quota of hat photos, we got to the good stuff -- Milt's birthday dessert!

Blue on blue for our boy.

If you read last year's birthday blog post, I know what you are thinking -- What a dinky little cookie -- Obviously, their love for the Milt Dog has waned just a little bit...  Well, this year, we actually did not have quite enough freezer room to support a triple-layer pumpkin, yogurt, peanut butter cake.  Jeff likes to have copious amounts of meat on hand, ready to defrost at his fingertips, and I have a bad habit of freezing every last morsel of food, even if it is one stray chickpea, before it spoils.  Milton might not have disliked the hat, but he certainly liked that cookie.

Eager anticipation...

Wait for it.

A little lick.

Mouthing it.

Milton taking his treat to his secret lair -- the...

living room, where Milton likes to take all his treats, so Momma and Daddy can't get their grimy hands on them!

Milton liked the cookie, but he really liked his present.

Investigating.

Sneaking off to the secret lair once again.

Not one but TWO KONG squeaky balls!

Even Daddy is impressed.

With the gift of two brand new balls to squeak, chase, and chew to Milton's heart's content, immediately following devouring a giant cookie, he upset his tender tummy just a little.

He threw up not once, but

twice, AND the second time was directly on Momma's rug conveniently under the coffee table.

Milt Dog was rather polite, however, and did offer to help (or rather watch...) Daddy Dog clean up.

As you can see, Milt is, indeed, another year older, but we are still just plum wild about that guy!  I often remark to Jeff that I don't know how we ever got along without this big white rat of a roommate.  Here's to many, many, many more years shared with our special dood!