Yesterday my furry baby was 13.
Last year he had a tumor cut off his leg. I cried the whole day.
The year before that he had a stomach bug for three days that I was sure was the beginning of the end.
I really never expected to see my sweet pup enter the "teen years". Especially after our first vet told us we'd be lucky to get ten given his pedigree Labrador status. I cried that whole day too because after only three days I was completely in love with him.
Ezra is a good old dog. He's going strong for 91. He still enjoys fetch although he has to rest a lot more. He still tattles on the kids if they are doing something wrong. He has another huge tumor on his leg that we've decided not to remove because, well, he is 13 and, well, we're still paying for the last one.
The odds are he won't make it to 14, but who knew he'd make it to 13, right?
One thing I do know is that we all love him. So much.
That Time I Had a Few Hours in Copenhagen
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