More: Anyone who has ever loved a dog knows the quiet dread of watching them get older. You wake up one morning and wonder when the white on their jowels showed up. The zips and zooms of puppyhood fade to naps in the sunniest, warmest spot in the house. The lumbering up the stairs takes a little longer, and the hops into the back of the car become a little less graceful. You pause at the vets when they ask you if you want the five year rabies vaccine or just the one year, blinking back tears, lump in your throat, your face hot with the embarrassment that you can barely croak out any response at all. And all the while, you are grateful. You know what a gift it is to have the wild and unfettered love of this creature even for a moment. All that they teach you - their optimism, their ability to always live in the now, the way that they make your home feel like home. The soft and consistent comfort of their loyal heart. Henry is around nine now. About a year and half ago, he was diagnosed with malignant melanoma, and it rocked our world. We started chemo vaccines right away, and he has responded fantastically well, with all subsequent scans clear and free of cancer (I’m knocking on wood). This time together is fleeting, so we should take every chance we get to play in the creek.