Each day after work I take Buster for a walk. If it's nice out I like to take him around what Rob and I call the "big loop" in our community - which is about one mile. Now that it's getting warm (and in my effort to work off the weight I gained on our cruise), I'll take him for a run around the big loop and then walk a second loop.
Well today we ran then met up with a friend to walk the second part. During our walking portion we ran into a few puppies - one who was 4 months old and another who was a little over a year. They were all playful and rambunctious, but Buster was calm and didn't really want to play too much - something I've noticed a little more of this last year. I thought that he was just tired from the walk but then it dawned on me: Buster isn't the youthful little puppy in the group anymore. As much as I love my cuddly puppy, it breaks my heart to think that he's getting old. And even though he's six years old (going on seven in October!), when I look at Buster I still see the little dog that snagged our heart all those years ago.
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