Today was a big day for a certain small dog: today Elliot "Bink(ers)" Lake officially turned one year old. It’s been quite a year. Not only was I radically unprepared to be a dog owner, I was actively unwilling. Only one person in the world could have overcome my host of reservations. Luckily—I think—she happens to be my wife.
Bink celebrated his birthday by gnawing--and in some places actually consuming--the border and understitching of our expensive new carpet. He’s sitting on a chair in the photo above because he’s been given a "Time Out." He doesn’t look very chastened, does he? Regret, I think, is not a common emotion for small dogs. If it were, he might consume a higher percentage of actual food, and a smaller amount of rubber, cardboard, styrofoam, and sundry other organic substances too unpleasant to mention. He’s a mischevious, rascally, and incredibly joyous little creature. I can’t believe I ever got along without him.
One of the reasons we chose a Maltese over other dogs was because of their longevity. Apparently, many can live to be fifteen or sixteen years old. In other words, I’ve got many years of Bink-dom in store for me. I doubt they’ll be enough.