olden retriever

Casey turned 15 this week. It's not every day that a dog turns 15, especially a large breed like a Golden Retriever. And then there's the sad fact that he's not going to be around for a 16th birthday ... so Leo and I opted to get everyone together for a bbq.

We checked out doggie cakes (out of curiosity about what's in them — kittens? cat poop?) but opted for a cheaper (and tastier) human-friendly Boston Cream Pie with fresh strawberries instead. The usual suspects showed up: Cass and Josh, Diana and Ophira (and Shiri), Rhiannon and Zach. We also had some other guests: soccer Kim and Omer, who's here from Phoenix for the week.

I'm glad to say that it was a dignified, low-key get-together. There were no party hats, no singing, and no gifts. (Who dresses their dog in organic cotton designer dog clothes and dog kimonos anyway?) All of us (save Shiri, D and Ophy's dog) enjoyed pollo asado, sausage, cheese, chips, watermelon, and cake. And Casey came home tired and slept hard that evening and the next day.