The sun is low in the sky and the shadows are long on the dirt road. It was frigid as I walked down the road with the two younger dogs. The old one was left looking out the window. The vet told us our distinguished old gentleman has a bad heart. So we left our golden retriever, Champ, inside by the warm woodstove.
The breath of the youngest, Rob, steamed out of his nostrils like a war horse as we waited for Dulcie, our foxhound. She has a way of disappearing into the trees, leaping away in the undergrowth in an instant. So Rob and I waited patiently until she came back to us. Rob, an Aussie mix, has severe hip dysplasia at 18 months. He's compensating with lots of love and exercise as well as daily physical therapy. But he knows that he can't keep up with the hound. So we wait.
She comes back as she always does, breathless and smiling ear to ear. We head home to the warm fire and our old friend waiting by the window.
