My darling will be ten tomorrow. He is asleep at the moment. He flickers his eyelashes sometimes, he must be having good dreams. While he sleeps, I bake a cake, a chocolate one. I ice it in white. He’s color blind, so I figure white will stand out. The smell awakens him. He looks up at me; I can tell that he knows I’m up to something. What escapes his sleepy honeyed gaze, eyes bursting with love like broken teddy bear seams and Christmas? He doesn’t know it yet, but tomorrow will be special. Ten is real old for a dog.