The Best Day of the Year (According to Moose)

January 10th is, without a doubt, Moose’s favorite day of the year. He doesn’t know what a calendar is, but he somehow knows. He gets this extra spring in his step all day, following us around with an intensity that’s a little unnerving. And we all know why. Because tonight is Hamburger Night. Since he’s a rescue, we have no idea when his real birthday is, so we just stick with the date the shelter gave us. It’s turned into this whole big tradition where he’s the star, and honestly, seeing him this happy is the best. He’s usually pretty chill, but on his ‘birthday’ he’s electric. Tonight, he wasn't a dog confused by the birthday song; he was a dog who knew exactly what was about to happen, and he was ready for it.

After we finished our own dinner (and I was staring at the pile of dishes I still had to do), we cleared the table and got ready for the main event. We gathered in the kitchen, which was his first clue. His tail started thumping against the cabinets, making this 'whump-whump-whump' sound that echoed through the house. It's so loud, but you can't be mad at it. We lit a single candle stuck into a little dollop of peanut butter because, you know, why not. He was practically vibrating with excitement. I mean, the full-body wiggles were off the charts, and he was staring at the counter where his special meal was waiting. It's funny and a little bit sad that this one silly tradition means so much to him, but I guess routine is everything for these guys.

The Hamburger Ceremony

Then my husband started singing 'Happy Birthday,' and we all joined in, completely off-key and way too loud. And Moose just lost it. He started doing these little happy barks and spinning in a circle, his tail going a mile a minute. He didn't howl or anything, he just got so, so excited that the song he hears maybe three times a year was finally here and it was for HIM. It was his turn. We put the hamburger patty—no bun, no salt, just a plain juicy patty—in his bowl and set it down. He didn’t even wait for us to finish the song. He just dove in, and the entire thing was gone in what felt like three seconds flat. It's like he inhales it. There was no chewing, just a couple of big gulps and then a very thorough bowl-licking session to make sure not a single molecule of hamburger was left behind. But yeah.

And after the big event, the post-hamburger bliss sets in. He gets all sleepy and content, like he just had the best meal of his entire life, which to him, he probably did. He wandered over to his bed by the fireplace, circled three times, and then collapsed with a huge, happy sigh. That’s how he is now, just passed out, probably dreaming of fields filled with hamburgers. It’s snowing outside and freezing cold, but he’s warm and full and for one night he is the most spoiled, celebrated dog on the planet. I just wish every day could make him this happy. Is it weird to be jealous of your own dog's happiness? Probably. Anyway, it was a good night, a really good night for him.