Every time I think that my dog is finally so old he’s going to bite the dust, he comes roaring back. The weather turned colder this week here and he perked up like someone on speed. I guess he will always be an Arctic dog who loves the cold and hates the heat. When the sun is out, he walks slowly and reluctantly and I think his time has come. Then it gets cold, starts to rain and the wind blows and he walks like a six year old, not a sixteen and a half year old. Go figure!