I never took Charlie to a St. Patrick's Day Parade. He didn't like big crowds. Plus, he wasn't a big fan of beer. What he did enjoy were treats; lots and lots of treats. Even after he'd finished his morning BM he'd sidle up to me for those tasty morsels. I guess he must have thought they went hand in hand. When he wanted a treat he'd begin barking. He had a habit of speaking three times in quick succession then stop for thirty seconds then begin again until I let him out the back door. He'd stay outside for fifteen seconds then run back in the house all for the purpose of getting a treat.
Charlie turned nine years old last January 14 and I noticed how his dark black coat around his face had changed to gray almost overnight. I also recognized how he was slowing down and taking many more naps. A year ago he would run after the deer grazing in our back yard. After his last birthday he wouldn't give them the time of day. Early on the ducks and Canadian geese swimming in our pond were constantly on the alert when he was around but in the past few months their fear of him wasn't there anymore. I can relate. For me walking is like attempting a hundred yard dash.
Rest easy, buddy.
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