Dear Goddamned Dog,
It’s that time again – the time when we both get a year older.
I must say it’s nice to share a birthday week with you, but we don’t seem to share the same perspective about the whole thing.
You look at our birthdays as that time of year when you get sausages and burgers with butter. I look at is as one more flurry of mailings from the AARP, and less chance that I’ll ever be a thin, rich heiress.
Tomato, to-mah-to I guess.
At any rate, I think we both got the perfect gifts from ourselves.
Happy birthday, Goddamned Dog.