As I sit at my desk this morning, my black lab Max is sound asleep on the couch beside me. Yes, he's allowed on the furniture. At the grand old age of thirteen, he's allowed to do whatever he wants.
He's rapidly turning gray and doesn't much resemble the pup we first rescued at 8 months old. That Max was so wired for sound and active, he could make your head spin. He also was a lab puppy which meant he chewed everything in sight. That includes eating a wall off the outside of the house, the trim around the patio door, and various flower pots.
Now, he gets a few spurts of activity during the day. He'll bark, spin in a couple circles, then grab a toy and lie down with it to find the squeaker. I have to search for my shoes every morning as he likes to carry them around the house. No more chewing...just carrying.
I watch him as he is sleeping and my heart fills with all the years of joy he has brought to my life. He's been a good dog, even if he does backtalk when he gets reprimanded. So if I have something on the couch, I'll move it so he can jump up and take his nap. He's earned every bit of it.