Lovely food, plenty of drink, the sun came out and Soho reveled in the attention. The cards and gifts were, as ever, over the top. On alternate years, we make a donation to an animal organization to offset the bevy of bling and surfeit of swag Soho receives at her party. Good thing dogs can’t really be spoiled, right?
By way of explanation, the biennial event has become known as the “Tarty Party” because Miss Soho, like every proper diva, has a nickname. When she flatters a human by jumping up to sit next to them (yes, we know she’s just trolling for pizzles but we think it’s about us anyway) she does not jump and she does not leap: the only way to describe it is to say she pops. Hence, she is known among her intimates as Miss Pop Tart, which begs shortening to Tarty. There has occasionally been confusion over this moniker, although we won’t name names, will we Bernadette? There are those who have heard it as “Tardy” rather than “Tarty” and since Miss Tart is quite punctual, never late, there are some who interpreted the nickname as meaning, well, that perhaps Soho is not as bright as some of the other dogs on the block. Or in the universe. How such a rumor could get started I cannot imagine. She’s actually quite smart. She just doesn’t want to show off. Don’t let all that fluff between her ears fool you. I’ve caught her reading Proust when no one is looking.
Thanks to all you dear people who do not pass judgment over us for having a birthday party for a dog…and for not telling us if you do.