well he's old, but he's still getting older, so i might cry over him but i still have him.
we just can't do what we did anymore. i carried him down to the water and he stood and drank some sips and looked at me. i tossed some rocks, but he didn't chase them like he did before. was it just last year? he dove down to retrieve the stones i threw. still life comes in waves. who knows. oh we know we're getting old, but we're still here. the difference between being old and death is greater than this. this is still life.