I’m The Big 1.0

Yep, that’s right—1.0!  Mom is big into decimal points. At the end of June she says I’ll be 1.083333: a bit of the nerd showing itself. I spent my birthday on the Outer Banks with Grandma and Grandpa Pyne. Uncle Mike and Aunt Lindsey showed up with puppy-dogs: Abby and Partner. The puppy-dogs and I barked and played together. They seem like a cool little crowd, though Partner thinks he’s better than me. He’s the same age, but he can walk, he listens to commands and doesn’t need a diaper. We’ll see how this picture changes in a year or two when Partner is still pooping in the yard, chewing on furniture and shedding everywhere.

I Don’t Need Your Help Mom–Clip Your Toenails Pops!

Grandma Pyne and Aunt Lindsey took me to the NC Aquarium while Mom and Pops went fishing with Grandpa Pyne and Uncle Mike. They spent all day searching the ocean for tuna. I took a 10 minute ride down the road and saw a whole bunch of them corralled for my viewing pleasure. I wonder who had the most productive day.

At the end of our fish watching, Aunt Lindsey introduced me to Otto. It was obvious from the get-go that we’d be best pals.

I still have an affinity for my cats, but Otto lets me squeeze him and chew on his tail anytime I wish. The cats are all attitude when I start chewing on them.

Eventually, Mom and Pops packed their bags for Dallas to Uncle Bill’s wedding. They left me behind to torment Grandma and Grandpa. The Grandfolks seemed to have a good time and they kept me fed, which means I had a good time. Grandma has a strange addiction to Finding Nemo. She used me as a cover, saying she watched it because it put me to sleep (it did), but I think she really just felt like watching it each and every night. I have to question her love of clown fish? I thought clowns were supposed to be scary.

Eventually, Mom and Pops got back from their journey across the states and informed me that there is now an Aunt Amy and a new baby on the way. Just what I need—more competition. I suppose I can be a good sport and give the young’un some advice. Don’t do what your Pops thinks is cool.  That “blow’em up” thing he does with his hand—lame.

Now we’re back home, but things are far from normal. Mom runs around saying “There’s a fungus among us.” I’m still not sure if I want to inherit the Pyne humor gene or the Mitchell humor gene. There has to be a better option. Anyway, somewhere in my travels, I picked up a touch of the ringworm. Now I have Mom rubbing jock itch cream all over me to kill this bothersome “worm.” It’s not so bad. I get a nice massage as she rubs it in. She goes overboard, saying she read, heard (made-up) that what you see is only a small part of the entire fungus, so I get a complete rubdown. Certainly a massage is not so bad after a long day of rearranging Mom and Pops’ bedroom, so I don’t complain.

In other news, we have a brand spanking new deck. Uncle Mike, Aunt Lindsey and their friends Zach and Abby came down, with the dogs, to build us a new deck. It’s awesome and I’ve already gotten comfortable on it. Check me out enjoying the great outdoors in my new “Jimmy Buffet” outfit I got for my birthday from Grandma and Grandpa Pyne.

Wastin’ Away Again…

The fashion show continues, as I got plenty of clothes for my big 1.0. The Connecticut crowd is getting in early trying to make me a Red Sox fan. Cousins Phoenix and Mike sent me some Red Sox gear. The clothes look pretty cool, especially on me. However, Pops is a Braves fan so I don’t know how this is going to go over. At least it’s not Yankees attire.

On the home front, I’m eating on my own more nowadays. Mom and Pops share their food, finally! In the last few weeks I’ve had pizza, steak, fish, lima beans (not so bad), chips and salsa, refried beans, shrimp, avocado and the list goes on and on and on. Put it on a spoon or in a plate in front of me and I’ll eat it. I’ll give anything a shot now that I have my teeth coming in.

I want to end with a belated Happy Father’s Day to my Pops as well as my Grandpappies Mitchell and Pyne. I’ll be seeing each of you soon.

Izaak P. Mitchell

Get In My Belly!