Happy Birthday to me.
Happy Birthday to me.
Happy Birthday, dear Hunteeeeer (no -man)
Happy Birthday to MEEEEEEE!
… to the REAL me, this time.
Poor guy only gets a bone while I got a buttery croissant.
Sometimes it just pays to be a cartoon doggie.
Oh, and in case you are wondering why we have everything on used paper … That’s a Flynn thing. Recycling. It was his condition to play along. I’ve explained it in the book but it will take some time until we reach that page.
Midnight now. Real doggies need to go to bed. I’m gonna stay awake and guard the presents.
We’ll post a pic tomorrow.
A couple of sleepy hours later:
Now it is here. Now it is gone.
It must have run somewhere, it was “rabbit” after all …
Dang.
When is dinner time again??
I love baby toys. They are soft and they are squeaky.
I thought Lassal made my day.
Little did I know.
Friend Nancy’s Present
My baby toys were quickly forgotten.
Who would blame me?!
Veni.
Vidi.
Vici!
Wich include this super neat macho gunslinger costume!