We think, anyway. With a rescue, it's always sort of hard to know, and the guy who bred Bast isn't exactly a mark-your-calendars sort of guy (or a regularly-change-your-underwear sort of guy), but this is the day we celebrate it as, anyway.
Unfortunately, since I didn't get Bast until he was 9 months old, I don't have the wealth of puppy pics that I would like to have - that's another problem of getting a rescue dog. I do have a few that have been gathered by some of my friends involved with Bast's rescue, though.
|Teeny tiny trouble.|
Anyway, we try to celebrate his birthday by having special meals. Last year he got chicken feet, his very favorite treat:
And some liver, which he was less thrilled about:
Here was the whole birthday array. I don't think Chef Ramsay will be knocking at my door anytime soon, but Bast liked it.
Anyway, this year we went with a heartier, meaty array of ground beef, chicken gizzards and sweetmeats, which I thought were beef cheeks but turns out is the thymus gland. The smell was unreal and Bast only wanted to play with it:
Om nom nom, meats.
And one last pic of the grody:
Happy, happy birthday, baby boy! I hope we have many more to come.