I should’ve known better than to leave a dog alone with a cake that had his name on it.
I live in Brisbane, and two years ago, after a messy breakup and one too many lonely nights, I decided to adopt a dog. His name was Charlie — a wiry little Staffy mix with a lopsided grin and the energy of a kid on red cordial. I wasn’t planning on bringing a dog home that day. I’d just “popped into” the RSPCA to clear my head. But Charlie had other ideas.
He leapt straight into my lap and let out this ridiculous little grunt like he’d just claimed me. And honestly, I was fine with that.
Since then, he’s been by my side for everything — Sunday walks by the river, late-night snack raids, even a failed attempt at paddleboarding (don’t ask). He’s my shadow and my chaos, all rolled into one slobbery, four-legged best mate.
So last October, I decided to throw him a birthday party. Yes, a real one. I made a dog-friendly cake with peanut butter, oats, and banana, stacked with little bone-shaped treats, and even invited my neighbour and her cavoodle to join.
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🐶 View Portrait Styles →Charlie was meant to wait patiently while we sang "Happy Birthday." That was the plan.
Instead, the second I turned to grab my phone to film it, he launched himself onto the coffee table, snatched the entire cake in one bite, and sprinted out the back door like a criminal on the run.
What followed was pure chaos: kids screaming with laughter, dogs barking, and me chasing a Staffy who now had peanut butter smeared across his nose and zero remorse in his eyes. I found chunks of cake in the garden for a week.
But honestly? It was perfect.
Charlie doesn’t care about cake etiquette. He doesn’t care about plans or neat little moments. He cares about joy. About doing exactly what he feels in the moment — and dragging me right into it.
That birthday wasn’t what I expected, but it was one of the happiest mornings I’ve had in years.
Sometimes I think dogs are just here to remind us to stop trying to make things perfect — and just enjoy the mess.