Today, we have a birthday celebration.
It's can't be the Builder, because he, along with DR, is in July.
It can't be the girls, because both of them were born on Mothering Sunday, two years apart. Mothering Sunday is in March.
It isn't the Wee Guy, because he shares a birthday with my Dad, and their special day is in April.
Yep, you guessed it. It's Jackson.
I'll begin by showing some photos of him when he was young. This is to get you all Awwwww-ing.
Did you say Awww already?
He has mixed allegiances at times. This was on July 4th, but we soon told him that he had no right celebrating that bunch of people who wanted liberty even if it cost them short-term security.
Pfft! What kinda people want liberty, and are willing to fight tooth and nail for it?
Oh, hang on ...
Anyway, this post is about Jackson. Let's not get waylaid with trivialities such as liberty.
Whilst on subjects of grandeur, I'd like y'all to know that Jackson has Royal blood in him.
Jackson is, of course, a retriever. And retrievers ...erm, retrieve.
He is of very noble birth, and he claims his forefathers retrieved for Royalty. In the absence of Royal Grouse, he lowers himself to Toy Ducks.
It matters not. He has blue blood in him and he's proud of it.
Can't you tell? Doesn't he look regal?
He even rests regally (when the Builder's not around - Shhhh. Don't tell him.)
Well, it'd be lovely to keep the whole Blue-blood-regal-stuff up, but reality needs some checking.
This is more like the Jackson we know.
and this ...
and this ...
This one in particular says, 'Even though I'm filthy, Mum, I'm still adorable, amn't I?'
This one says,
"Even though I'm an absolute goofball, you still love me, don't ya?"
This was the day I almost put him up for sale.
At this stage, he was Free to Good Home.
In fact, he was Free to Any Home.
I also considered selling this pair,
knowing they were guilty for introducing Jackson's mouth and my precious boots.
They're lucky they bake such delicious cakes, otherwise they may just have found that boot booting them oot the door.
Happy Birthday, Jackson.
We simply cannot remember, or imagine, life without you.
The rabbits on the machair can't remember a time without you either.
... a time when they didn't have a Lab to mock with their speed, agility and underground hideouts.
But you have the last laugh. They don't sit at their back door watching the sunset, and then come in to a cozy bed in front of a peat fire, do they?