Not David Bailey

By emma

Happy birthday Tobydog

Sir Toby Wobles is nine years old today. I picked him up from a farm up the coast in November 2004. He was a teeny weeny poppet, and the second we got in the car he fell asleep in my lap. Together we've lived in five different houses, holidayed in Scotland, Northumberland and the Lake District, and enjoyed a few camping trips. He's been there while relationships have begun, and been there when they've broken down. He's helped me through my ups and my downs. I've made new friends because of him, some of whom are close to me now. He has sat on my knee and licked the tears from my face when the chips have been down. He's ran around the fields and played with me on many sunny (or rainy) days, and given me an excuse to walk in the fresh air, and visit new places. He's had his naughty times, and I once came close to losing him. I'm so glad I didn't. And he's had his very good times too. He's happily welcomed my three year old boy into the household without a hint of jealousy or impatience. When my little boy recently (unintentionally) injured Toby's leg, he didn't growl or snap; merely hopped away quietly to a safe corner on his three good legs. And a little while later, Toby snuggled in beside him, and put his head on my little boy's lap, as if to say, "don't worry, I'm fine, you're still my best pal". The smile on my little boy's face showed his relief. Here he is proudly showing off his birthday present. Shortly afterwards he ripped the fox's head off and spread his innards all over the carpet. He's allowed to though, as it's his special day. Happy birthday our Tobes. Good boy xxx

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