What am I going to do without you? My trusty, stubborn, wise friend...
I don't know. One minute you're playing, almost rough, with some boy dog you found.... and the next minute you're limping along like it's your last walk. I don't know what to think, or expect. So, I don't think. And don't expect anything. And I just spend as much time as possible with you. It's only been in the last few years that you've even let me hold you for a long time. Before, you were too restless, and you liked your space.
Now you're mostly slow and loving the attention. You probably have pain somewhere, or maybe a little everywhere, and...well, it kinda looks like you've surrendered.
I'm going to take you up to the baseball field tomorrow, because I remember that last time we were there we got out of the truck, and you walked to the edge of the field and saw how big it was, and you ran really fast across half of it. I hadn't seen you run like that in months.
I love being with you. I just have to remember that I'm not dying, myself.
