Good Old Boy

I don't think I've mentioned him on these pages before, but my dog is getting old. He's a golden retriever we got from the Greater Portland Animal Refuge League when he was, we believe, about 1.5 years old. He leapt (from God knows where) in through someone's bay window to get close to their in-heat female. In repayment for his ardor, he knocked out his front teeth - and got himself neutered and incarcerated. That was 10 years ago.

We decided to call him Toby, and , of course, he accepted that liberty. Ever since, he has been the most loving, friendly, grateful, and generally rewarding pet I can imagine. I am dreadfully sorry to see him getting old and tired. It seems horribly unfair that I should have gotten thinner, stronger and healthier in the span he has gone from puppy to old, old man. I remember when he would gladly chase a tennis ball for as long as there was strength in my arm to throw it. Now, he will gamely go after the first toss, but then he is out of gas. Come to think of it, I have a few more aches and pains than I used to, but I expect to live two or three more of his lifetimes.

He still loves the cold and snow - it makes him feel frisky- but he also loves to lie close to the fire until his fur gets almost too hot to touch. I'll post a picture of him one of these days... he is our ultimate good old boy. When he goes, he will leave an unfillable void.