Riley turned 11 months old on Thursday. I can’t believe she’s almost a year old. She (surprisingly) seems to be calming down a little bit. She hasn’t had to bother my parents’ poor, geriatric dog too much lately. Only once or twice a day as opposed to at least 4 or 5 times a day. She used to bother the poor dog until she would give in and start playing with her and now if the other dog, Chloe, won’t play with her after a minute or two she just leaves her alone. She still wants to play fetch 24/7, but seriously, am I expecting a miracle here?
I was going to say that Riley hasn’t gotten in to as much stuff as she used to but then I remembered when she grabbed a quesadilla out of the trash can after dinner. Ah, thinking back over the year I remember all the mischief she’s gotten into. Digging countless holes in the yard and hiding things out there. Hiding things behind the curtains and hiding things down in the couch cushions. Eating a Zoloft when she was 4 months old. Turning on the faucet in the bathtub and in the shower. Ah, the memories. Riley’s reputation precedes her.