Today is another a busy day for me working in my office updating software, working on my website, editing photos, leaning how to use new album designing software. By my side as I worked is my faithful dog Max. I adopted Max from the shelter thirteen years ago. My German Shepard Gypsy had just died and I knew I wanted another dog. Not to replace her but to give another shelter pup a good life like Gypsy had had in my home. The shelter told me Max was about two but he acted more like a puppy under a year than a two year old. His age doesn't really matter unless I'm looking at how much more time I have left with this sweet dog. I can see him slipping a bit, he seems confused like not wanting to go through the door to my office or waiting by the wrong door to come in from outside. He still has his appetite and hasn't lost his mobility except he's now hesitant to tackle the stairs to the bed he loved to lay on.
As an adult I have always had a dog, always a shelter dog of mixed heritage. Max is the best natured, loving dog I have ever owned. He is very sensitive dog, aware of my feeling. If I'm happy or especially when sad he seems to know. He decides to curl up on the couch with me when I sob through one of those Humane Society commercials with all the animals that need to get adopted. Even after years of walking together he still always walks in front of me, encouraging me to pick up my pace. As for disposition he doesn't have a mean bone in his body. My other shelter dog, Ruby who I fondly call my "devil child" acts like a two year old instead of her true age of ten. She always pushes Max out of the way at the water bowl, or moves in for that one piece of food that has jumped out of Max's bowl and he never snaps or growls at her. Ruby can be at the far end of the yard and she can still be the first to get thru the sliding glass doors as Max gets pushed aside Max waits patiently to enter last.
I'm reminded today of how lucky I am to have handsome Max in my life. My sweet pup with those sad eyes.