What does a geriatric Tripawd dog look like? Definitely not Wyatt Ray Dawg, our eleven year-old wild boy.
The humans took me to the exercise dogtor the other day. They want to make sure I’m still up to the task of being your loyal spokesdog. When we were there, the dogtor called me a “geriatric” Tripawd dog. I thought “WHO are you talking about, lady?”
I might have turned eleven years young on Friday, but that doesn’t stop me from having a wild pawty. Talk about livin’ it up; I got TWO birthday treats!
That’s right party people. I’m eleven now. Sure, I’m a little bit more chill these days, and sometimes I sleep in later, but I still sleep with one eye open and I can hear you coming from a mile away.
What does a geriatric Tripawd dog look like? Certainly not me. If this is what 11 looks like, I can’t wait to see 12. I’m having as much fun as ever.
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!
Three legged tripod spokesdog German Shepherd Wyatt Ray celebrates his birthday.
You know three is the magic number, right? Well guess what? Three is MY number today! Woo hoo! It’s my birfday!
It’s been a long haul from the nasty Oaktown ‘hood where I was born, to where I am today, but now that the bad stuff is behind me it’s been nothin’ but good times since I found my pack.
Not that my big day was a wild pawty or anything, because you know how it goes when your birthday falls right after the holidays. But even though we were all pawtied out from our time with Santa Paws, Mom and Dad made it special, and went out to get me a Flying Dutchman from In ‘N Out’s Secret Menu!
Hey Abby girlfriend, they’re just as good as you always say they are. Yum! Nothin’ better than two burgers and some cheese. I gobbled it up in two second flat.
And that was my big day. I know this year’s gonna be great, because you can’t go wrong with the number three!