As his sight clouds over there's a loss of some of his trademark self confidence. The old fellow is suddenly starting to trip over shrubs in the garden, stumbling as he climbs the stairs and bumping into furniture. The friendly, biscuit bearing, workmen swarming over the roof are now treated with throaty suspicion. Even the morning walk across the village green to the church has become difficult for him. He refuses to go out onto the lane without his harness on and one of us by him. When he wakes from his afternoon sleep by the front door a worried " where are you ? " bark. In the small hours of the morning one of us dashing across the garden in dressing gown and slippers as he heads off in the wrong , post 'pit stop', direction. His trust never more tangible.
The next stage on this journey. More than ever a time for patience and kindness. Some truth in the old phrase " If thou art a master, be sometimes blind; if a servant, sometimes deaf " .