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| Charlie. 8.13.14 |
He's 13 years old now. The best friend I ever had. His eyes are rheumy, and his joints are stiff in the am. Once in a while he'll fall down for no apparent reason. He can't handle the heat. Neither can I. He breathes heavily with minimal effort. Even so, he runs up the stairs to greet me, barks at the cat, wags his tale all of the time, rests his chin on the computer keyboard, and stays not more than 5 feet away from me whenever I'm home. He's comfortable and happy. I wash his rheumy eyes every day. His aging breaks my heart.
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