copp in clover. copp is getting old too fast and creaky in his bones and has trouble getting up and my guilt is tapped and i don't know what to do. we need to swim, and i'm able to swim far out with him and surely that is good for both our skeletons. but the shore is changing every day, the waves pushing up rocks, the sea wall disintegrating, and we have loved jumping off, but we will make sure to get out smooth, and not struggle. i cry to think i've hurt him. i wonder in the balance, what should we do. my head says damage is implicit in living, but we also have to take care. i see so many dogs straining at the leash, straining for freedom, resigned and plodding, dull-eyed. i look at copp and see radiant smiles, and that's partly natural dispositin but more importantly arising out of the joyous activity we share. the damned thing with me is striving for balanced in a brutally imbalanced world, and being a little old man beset by sorrow and depression and craving simple childlike pleasure. seeking balance in imbalance. on the advancing wave of disruption, war and societal chaos, and being a congenital depressive. but most dogs don't know what we know, and i'll stand by that, and take care to extend.