A day late, but that’s okay, because it’s not a real birthday. I just know she was born around this time.
It’s hard to believe, but Harriet is 8 years old. To celebrate, she had a special breakfast of scrambled egg with cheese and mushrooms on toast. No cake, alas, but I don’t think she minded. After an extra long walk, a game of Fetch-n-Kill the Ball, and some quality rawhide time, she was ready for her beauty sleep.
red paper boat 