" Goodness ! He's light ". ' The Fonts ' comment when lifting Wilf into the back of the car. The family fellows losing weight. You can see it in the photos . The lean look giving way to a sort of hollow cheeked gauntness. Muscle and fat gently dissolving away despite his best efforts to compensate.
Kelly, the ever sprightly hover dog, still acts as an irresistible attraction to our ageing matador. Three times a day we trot off towards her front gate. Our outward journey slow but determined. Our homeward leg interrupted by long recuperative, legs akimbo, pauses on the grass verge. While his young friend prances round him in a maelstrom of activity, Wilf sits and sniffs the air. A look that says ' this is all very interesting but I'd rather have a cup of cocoa '. The young seldom consider old age, and the old are obsessed with recollection.
Lives of quiet contentment do not make for a compelling story. I'm surprised, and thankful, that so many still follow us on our peaceful path. A reminder that dog blogs are as much a community as an art form. Through it all Wilf gets on with life. The sort of dog who knows that " you can complain because roses have thorns, or you can rejoice because thorns have roses ".