A Tripawd working dog needs his couch after a long day on the ranch, but his dad had other plans.
I don’t know why humans do the things they do. Take for example, my Dad’s latest project: building a desk for himself.
Before we got to the ranch for summer, me and him used to sit on my couch during the day. I was hoppy to share it. He would bang on his computer machine, and I would snooze. Or, when my friend Austin visited, we took over my couch and Dad got to sit at the kitchen table.
But every day Dad would say “Ouch” “Ugh” “Grr” when he would stand up after working all day. Mom said “It’s your back. You need a real desk for work.”
Then after one back ache too many, Dad got mad at the couch desk. So he tore it out. And then I knew we were in trouble.
It didn’t take him very long to build his desk. And everyone thinks it’s great. But I sure don’t. No more couch for me.
That’s OK though. A Tripawd working dog like me has plenty of other things to do around here. Like help Dad at his other job on the ranch.
Or just watch the office with mom.
That’s my life as a Tripawd working dog. But it’s not all work and no play. Wanna see what else I’ve been up to this summer on the ranch? I knew you did!
Wyatt Ray Dawg turns nine years old today, come pawty with us and watch dogs sing happy birthday to our hero!
“Where does the time go?” I hear humans say this a lot. Silly bipeds, if only they would remember there’s no such thing as “time.” The only “time” there is, is happening now people. Right here, right now. And at this very moment, I happen to be a NINE year old Tripawd!
That’s nine Christmases like this last one, which was the best ever. I opened so many presents I passed out.
You know what my favorite present was? Why a treat dispenser, of course! After all, I’m a chow hound.
That’s nine years of being Tripawds spokesdog and showing all those four-leggers like my new pal Donovan, that we Tripawds can keep up with the pack and show em how things are done!
And that’s nine years of giving my parents more vetscapades and more gray hair. Sorry!
But best of all, it’s nine years of the road dawg life that I wouldn’t have otherwise had if it wasn’t for my pals the Oaktown Pack, who found my people when I needed them most. Thanks dudes.
Enough of the speech. Now it’s time to party down people and sing Hoppy Ninth Birthday to meeeeee!