As the microwave growls, Oliver leaps off the couch and begins lumbering toward his food bowl. I watch him step one paw in front of the other. He’s been getting old for years; there’s nothing new in his slow gait, the stiff motion that propels him forward. He will continue to progress until there’s no more progression left, and then I will have to make a choice.
These thoughts are no more sentimental than normal. They are fact, an everyday reality that is part and parcel of providing for a being you love.
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