The Facebook menu showcases how much we adore our beloved pets, and we go to great lengths to make their birthdays extra special. It’s no secret that we shower them with cakes and treats as a way of showing our love and appreciation. These dog owners have taken it up a notch by throwing the most amazing parties for their furry friends, giving them an unforgettable day filled with love and attention. Take a look at these adorable pups as they relish in the limelight, becoming the star of the show on their special day. One of the videos captures a cute little pup whose appetite seems to be bigger than his tiny tummy, making for a hilarious and heartwarming moment.
The adorable pet featured in this Reddit post is overjoyed with his unique meat cake that is decorated with delectable dog treats.
We aren’t exactly foodies, but there’s one thing that gets us all excited – the moment when our mom cuts into her delicious cake. It’s a small pleasure that brings us so much joy!
These cupcakes are so adorable that I can’t resist raving about them. They look like they could be identical twins, and they’re just too cute to put into words.
There’s this adorable photo of a corgi on Pinterest, and it looks like he’s super focused on achieving something. It’s almost as if he’s got his mind set on winning a prize or achieving some sort of goal.
The little pug is experiencing extreme delight and cannot contain his laughter.
Can we currently indulge in The Marvelous7 without any concerns for safety?
I know that I am lucky and have been blessed with numerous privileges in my life.
“We are the kings and queens of the internet! Wow, this is just too cute!”
Are both of these items under my ownership as part of Internet Rulers11?
Isn’t this cute? Don’t forget to share it with your friends and spread the joy! We dominate the online world!
The pet I’ll never forget: Ella the puppy threw up on me, snubbed me and after 10 years decided to love me
Mum, Dad, my brother Michael: everyone in the family got more affection from our ridgeback-staffie cross. And guess whose bed she used to poo on…
I think the tone was set when Ella threw up over me on the way back from the Dogs Trust. She was three months old, rolling around on the back seat between me and my twin brother, Michael (we’d just turned seven), and wasn’t enjoying her first trip in a car. She could have been sick anywhere – over the seat, over the floor – but for some reason she decided to climb on to me first.
It was the start of a beautiful but strangely one-sided friendship. Ella, a ridgeback-staffie cross, was the perfect dog: playful, energetic, naughty and tolerant. She would let us poke and prod her without complaint, turn her ears inside-out or dress her up in T-shirts or the thick woollen poncho my Greek Cypriot grandma knitted her for the British winter. And she was endlessly loving, at least to the other members of the family. Me? Too often it was as if I didn’t exist. If Michael and I were sitting on the sofa, she’d bound up to him. If I came home after a day out with my dad, he was the one she’d jump at. If I tried to take her for a walk by myself, she’d drag her feet and insist that I fetch my brother.
To add insult to injury, about once a year she would do a poo in the house. Not just anywhere, though: she’d climb the stairs to my room and leave it in a neat pile on top of my bed.
I can’t pretend I wasn’t offended by Ella’s attitude – I loved her just as much as anyone. But it took me a while to realise that in her eyes we were both bitches fighting for our place in the pack. I read that dogs are 98.8% wolf, even yappy little chihuahuas. Ella was a definite she-wolf and my mother (she who opened the tin of dog food every night) was the undisputed alpha female. Ella could handle that fact, but she didn’t want to be the omega female. That was me.
Working out the reasons for Ella’s lack of sisterhood, understanding that her indifference was atavistic and not just casual, didn’t make me any less jealous of my brother, who always took great pleasure in the fact that Ella seemed to prefer him. But I resigned myself to the situation. And then one day (happy ending, anyone?) everything changed. I must have been 16 or 17, we’d been away for a fortnight in France, and when we got back it was me she ran up to first, whining and twisting with pleasure at seeing me again. After that it was like all those years of competition had never happened. We were best friends for ever, or at least for the couple of years she had left. Ella finally loved me.
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