He wasn’t like me. He hung out on his front porch and usually stayed there. I would have been off and running. But sometimes my person would let me go over there and say hi.
We often went out on the trails together – me and my person and Timmy and his people. But Timmy would turn around and head back home when I was just barely getting started.
Timmy was old, and he walked with a limp. But he was always good for a sniff, and we checked each other out that way often.
I can imagine Timmy now. No limp – no tired old body. He must be off and running on the trails somewhere as fast as I do.
I expect to be running around on my trails for a long time to come yet, maybe as long as Timmy did. Seventeen years is a pretty long time.
But when I’m finally old and worn out there’s one thing I’ve gotta ask.
Timmy, can you save a place for me on your trails?