Bo on the Mountain

Sometimes, just when I think my beautiful old walker, Bo, is on his very last leg, a wind will blow through the pines and stir the sleeping memories in his soul. Memories of hunting on the mountain and adventures deep in the woods that were shared only with his pack.

And it is on these days that he will beg with his soulful brown eyes, and plead with me in his failing voice to leave the sanctuary of his controlled environment on the enclosed porch and go run one more time.

And even though I know it is not in his best interest and the exertion will put an even greater strain on his weak heart and his bent and frail arthritic bones, I can not deny him this wish. Because to deny him this brief outing would be to deny him his happiest memories. Memories of when he was the biggest strongest dog on the mountain, and my most vigilant protector..........just as I hope I am his these days.