1!

Dear Cal-

Today you are no longer "0"-you’ve finally moved on to “1”. Hooray! I can’t believe I am no longer able to say “Oh, sorry ‘bout the biting-she’s just a puppy.” Or “Whoops-sorry about the jumping on you-she’s only 6 months. (nervous laugh)” Because our society seems to think it’s OK to get away with things when your under 1, but over 1-wow, that’s a whole new level. Welcome to it. (Though, you and I both know you’ll probably be a puppy until your 12)
Oh Callerina, where do I start? I know it’s really only been 10 months since we’ve had you and I should have known from the first night home with you that you’d contribute to my gray hairs, while at the same time melt my heart every night as we cuddle on the couch. I knew from the moment I met you you’d be my little (feisty) cuddle dog.

Congratulations on being my first puppy. Not for Papa-he’s pretty much an expert. But for me, I think we raised each other. I apologize for that, sometimes. You still love me, right? You’ve driven me to tears a time or two, or three, or four. I’ve driven you to bark more than enough. I remember being so frustrated in those first few weeks. I had no idea what I was doing, and spent hours researching “How to get your puppy to stop biting” and “How to prevent bad dog behaviors” and all sorts of an.al retentive research that your Mama does so very well. I spent hours researching food and nutrition, and still spend too much time looking and analyzing every single ingredient that goes down that throat-well, most of it anyways. I choose things like “No wheat, corn or soy. Named proteins, etc. Omega 3-s.” and you choose things like dryer sheets and mom’s undies and napkins. Oh, how you love compressed pulp in a sheet form. Almost nightly, we chase you around the living room to grab whosever napkin you just stole from our TV trays. At the end of the day though, we get along like PB & J. After a long, energy filled, back-talking on your behalf, squirt bottle threatening, and playing tug-of-war over and over and over kind of day.

You’ve truly amazed me this past year. You certainly have developed quite the interesting personality. Since day 1, you were braver than most human’s I know. Well, once we got past that whole learning to walk on a leash thing. For a while there, I thought you were going to set up camp on the strip of concrete in front of our house. We got past that and honestly, I don’t think there’s a single thing you’re afraid of. There is no toy too tough, no dog too intimidating, no bed to high to jump upon, no food you don’t like, no bee too stingy (and therefore no vet too expensive), no counter to tall to try and surf along and lick. You love it all.
You’re a firecracker-we’ve said that since we first met you. You talk back, you demand our attention when its time to play, you’re a drama queen when you’re sad or heartbroken you can’t get in the kitchen while Mama is cooking or you want to break free of the leash because there’s something your keen eyes have spotted. You have a thing with questioning authority, as seen our first week of dog training-you bit the trainer. Yah, that wasn’t a shining moment in your first year. However; by the end of week 6, you were doing “Leave It” and leaving everyone else behind, and rocked the agility course with ease. I think you’re even more stubborn than me or Papa, and that’s tough to beat. But you sure are a smart cookie-potty training was a breeze and I was proud you learned to sit in that first week, too! You’re also independent, and like can go do things on your own and try and be everyone’s friend at the doggie park. But you always like to know where your Mama and Papa are. You always look back to make sure they’re watching you. Once of my favorite memories is when you were just about 9 or 10 weeks old, and we took you over to the C household-home of the other famous Brittany’s. You did a Superman leap into their Koi pond, and from that moment on, we knew you’d have a career having to do with water. It took us weeks to get the swampy smell out of you. Bathtime is now a breeze-we even let you “dig” in the tub for a few minutes and you’re so very determined. You do embarrass me a bit though, when you think water bowls at the dog parks or doggie day care are small swimming pools. Why don’t people understand that water bowls + dog parks = not the best idea. You try and show off your Michael Phelps like free-style stroke, and we just get looks like “WTF?”. That’s why I now know only to take you to parks that have the drinking spouts, and you have your own water bowl (REI brand, of course. Thanks Pops.) That stellar swimming skill helped you develop quite a reputation at our day-care. Heck, they know you when they see you walking through the door! The report cards you normally come home with say things like “Callie MADE everyone play with her, once again!” or “Callie ruled the scene!”. Oh, that’s my girl. It doesn’t matter the breed or the size, Great Dane to Yorkie-you pick on them ALL. Oh, Cal. You make Mama and Papa proud, no matter how embarrassed we get.
Speaking of Papa, that sure one heart that you have melted, which in turn makes my heart melt as well. He’s probably the best Papa in the world. We should contact Guinness World Records. Seriously. Because of you, I actually admitted to Papa that I needed him. Since you know me so well, you’ll know that’s a big deal for me to say that. I, too, like to be independent and don’t want to “need” anyone. But honestly, I could not have raised you without him. He’s soothed my tears when I couldn’t imagine you’d ever stop biting to crap out of me. He’d tell me to snap out of it when you and I were chasing each other around the room because we were both just frustrated and still trying to understand one another. He lets you get away with (almost) everything, and I’ve learned to cave with things such as letting you on the bed, letting you rule the couch (but you’re so freaking cute!), spoiling you with collars and toys and rawhide and new beds. He teases you, and wrestles with you and lets you beat him up. You do a darn good job, too. He also lets you jump on him in the morning when its time to wake up. This is a habit I think is hilarious during the week, but not so funny on the weekends when you jump on me, too. (You are pretty darn cute, though.) Oh, but who doesn’t love a wet nose in their face or long nails digging into their back? A perfect way to wake up on a Saturday. But I’ve got it figured out. You wake us up around 8, and Papa gets up with you, while I snooze for another 2 hours. Works out perfectly. He’s going to be a great Papa to a human someday, too. He’s such a softie sometimes.
I think it was right around 4 months when I noticed you were walking kind of funny-you were limping a little on your hind leg. I got an immediate sinking feeling in my stomach, and when I told Pops what it might be, he dismissed it. “Oh, stop your Googling. She’s fine. She’s probably just sore.” But you didn’t stop. You were still limping, and we brought it up to the vet. When we got he x-rays back, my suspicions were confirmed. You have Hip Dysplacia. I cried, as I know what you’re in for in your very active life. I’ve read too much about it to know that it’s not just something you’ll deal with. It’s serious. It breaks my heart every.single.day. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about it. I watch your running to see if you limp or “hop”. I cringe when you jump on our very high bed and dread the day where you just can’t make it up there any longer. I was worried sick when we visited our parents over Christmas, because both of them have slippery wood floors and you slipped and slid all over the place when chasing Maddie. Amazingly, you’ve looked even better since then. I don’t know how you pulled that off.
Through this all, you continue to have the same zest for life; it doesn’t stop you. You do let us know if you’re in pain (I tend to flip out during those moments), but it’s so very rare. You keep running as fast as you can at the empty ballpark or chasing other dogs at the park, and you would never guess you have something that’s going to slow you down pretty quickly. I worry-maybe I shouldn’t let you run so much, or play so hard. But that’s like telling a fish he can’t swim. We could have done a surgery before you were 9 months old, but Papa was right-you’re not in any pain right now, and to put you through that would have broken our hearts even further. We’re just going by your cues and holistically helping you where we can. You’re still a leggy, agile, graceful ball of fire.
Over this past year of your life you’ve become our exercise machine, our defender, our watchdog (Doorbell?), our entertainer. Our canine vacuum, our snuggler, our flower-hole digger (and flower stealer). Our very regal Brittany. I tell you every day you’re the most beautiful dog to ever exist on this earth, and I believe that wholeheartedly to be true. If there was a Miss Dog contest, you’d win hands down. You even have the “party tail” to top it off. What can we say-you were born to celebrate all life has to offer. Rawhides and all.

So, thank you Miss Callie McCallerston for coming into our lives. I don’t think either one of us can imagine life without you, or your fiery personality. We wouldn’t trade you in for anything. Your hips? Maybe. You? Never. My life now revolves around you. You’ve become a great excuse for me not to socialize “Oh, sorry, I can’t. I need to get home to the dog…” and every time I see your big hazel eyes look up when it’s time to get out of the crate, and onto the floor for a belly rub, it’s worth it. I sometimes question it when you decide to throw your daily tantrums, but we all know deep dow:. You’ve got a hold on me, Cal. Happy 1st Birthday and here’s to many happy and healthy more.
Love,

Your Mama