Yesterday was my first birthday, and my Pirate Mom asked me to blog about the events.

I know about birthdays.  I’ve been around for a few of my peoples’, and I know that they mean CAKE.  So I was pretty excited when they started talking about MY birthday.  Finally, I get to taste CAKE.

They can’t fool me.  That is a cookie…not CAKE…and it’s on fire.

Do they know it’s on fire?  I do, and it scares me.

Although I’m disappointed, I will eat the cookie if they will just stop singing and put the fire out.

There, that’s better.  It’s not CAKE, but it’s still pretty yummy.

Someone, probably the Dad, remembered that I was a dog and put my cookie on the floor.

Now they say it’s time for presents.  I’m hoping that presents is another name for CAKE.

Uh, no.  Apparently it’s another word for torture.

I also got a toy, but I refused to give them the pleasure of seeing me play with it as long as they make me wear this stupid sweater.

I tried my sad look….

I tried my psycho look…

I tired my bored look…

…but they wouldn’t take it off.  They kept just laughing and taking pictures and feeding the cute baby more of my birthday cookies.

Birthdays, I’ve decided, bite.