Tucker in October

It's hard to see our formerly exuberant black Lab, Tucker, at fourteen.  Although she used to race off the end of our dock chasing a tennis ball for hours, a single circuit around the house now almost totally defeats her.  Her muzzle is gray, her shiny black fur has lost its luster, and her eyes are milky and a bit confused.  She's still the same sweet-tempered girl, but mostly, she sleeps.

Today, though, we caught her relaxing in the unkempt perennial garden at the front of our house.  I imagine she likes it there--a bit out of sight and pressed up against the sun-warmed stone of the house, her nose in the rosemary.  It's a good place for an old dog, and I'm glad these pleasures remain for her: warm sun, cool dirt, fragrant plant.

You're a good girl, Tucker dog.