The vet sounded surprised: "It's really unusual that a dog his age would have such great numbers. But he's a good boy."
I think Max isn't sure what his name is any more. He went to a party the other night (I was invited but wasn't up to it) and got praises and belly-rubs and little bits of shrimp and perhaps a tiny sip of dark beer or two. When I wandered out back, he was surrounded by a bevy of beautiful babes, all telling him what a good, what a beautiful, what a sweet boy he is. I think he thinks his name is "Handsome" or "Gorgeous" or "Oh, hi there."
It bothers me not at all that my dog is invited to parties which I choose not to attend. He came back strutting, if dogs can strut, and slept like a log all night.
Don't stop with the good vibes, folks. If you can stand to add one more to your list in addition to the Zib-Nose Scronkle-Hound, there is a certain kitten in Colorado who needs a good home, having almost been left in a dumpster at a local Petco.
And thanks. People sometimes suck, but you guys certainly don't.