[Dailydrool] Young Charlie's fourth

[Elizabeth Lindsey]

Young Charlie celebrated his fourth birthday yesterday. Who would  
have thought he'd live long enough to see his fourth? Certainly not  
I! Some days he was just this close to being slaughtered in cold  
blood, the remains of my possessions scattered about his corpse. But  
then he'd fall asleep in my arms, all warm and fuzzy and sweet-faced,  
and I'd grudgingly think, "Okay, I'll wait until tomorrow to kill you."

We took young Charlie in when he was eleven months old, a very busy  
eleven-month old. He was our first buppy, and I'd always been under  
the impression that buppies took a lot of naps. Not this one. Charlie  
was busy busy busy from the moment he got up until the moment we  
shoved him into his crate at night. I took to locking him in my  
office with me in order to reduce the amount of running through the  
house I had to do to take things out of his mouth.

Although he's now officially a Big Boy and can (and does!) nap during  
the day, Charlie still finds plenty to do and plenty to run around  
with in his mouth with the hope I'll chase him for hours. There's  
nothing he likes more than a good game of chase, and it really  
doesn't matter who's chasing who just so long as lots of running and  
hot pursuits are involved. His most favorite things to pick up to  
entice me to chase him are magazines, small articles of clothing, and  
wood scraps (we're redoing a floor).

Sometimes he hops up on the bed, which he knows he's not supposed to  
be on, ever, and he walks across it, looking for contraband like  
socks or hats to run around with in his mouth. Once in a blue moon  
he'll get on the bed and curl up comfortably on it, facing the door  
so he can enjoy the panoply of expressions that cross my face when I  
finally see him in there. I think his favorite is my shocked  
expression: "I can't believe you did that!" And why, after three  
years of young Charlie, do I continue to feel disbelief when I see  
him curled up on my bed? It's times like that when I consider killing  
him on the spot for doing what he *knows* is verboten, but the longer  
I scold him, the more his eyes twinkle and the harder it is for me to  
keep from laughing with him. I struggle until I have to turn away so  
he can't see me smile, and that's when he knows his winning streak  
remains solid.

This is how young Charlie, my merry mischief maker, keeps on living  
to see yet another birthday. He's my lighthearted, joyful little boy  
whose inability to take anything outside of mealtimes seriously makes  
my life so much better.

Happy fourth birthday, young Charlie!

Elizabeth