So, the first chill of the season has come wandering south and I miss our dog Trevor. He was a mutt, found him in her folks' neighborhood, no tags, no one wanted him or claimed him, so we took him in. I'm not sure that we were even married yet, I guess the dog was our first joint commitment - then that business at the chapel. 14 years ago, at least.
Trevor didn't age very gracefully - he had a bit of white on his muzzle into his 10th year and had problems getting around. When he tore a ligament in his leg we got him a doggie cart that he hated very very badly, and never used to any degree. Looking back, I don't know what the hell I was thinking, letting the Mrs. talk me into a goddamn doggie cart, but moving on. But the old boy was always anxious to get out and walk the neighborhood, even if I had to carry him on the return trip.
They say that Spring is the time of rebirth, but for us it was fall. Trevor would be so lazy and tired and struggle to walk the yard in the summer heat, but once the cool blast hit he would run again - run out of the house, chasing the squirrels and other dogs and rolling around - and then he would run back inside, skidding on the kitchen tiles and giving the cats hell, smiling the whole time. It was like turning the clock back 10 years, back to his robust youth.
But not this year.