Sonia's birthday was Tuesday, and Fiorella missed it, for which she profoundly apologizes. After all, it was a very important BD for doggie, her third, which means she is now twenty-one years old in dog years--old enough to vote, to drink, and to make her own living.
Sonia may not be holding down a job yet, but she has matured. She isn't as interested in rawhide sticks as she used to be, and she doesn't chew on anything else at all. And yesterday, Fiorella was able to persuade her to ignore four deer in the woods within fifteen yards of her, even when they bolted. Also, whenever Sonia breaks leash now, she heads straight for the front door and waits on the porch to be let in.
She knows where she belongs.