My old yellow Labrador retriever, Bailey, turned fourteen last November. He went completely deaf more than a year ago, he has visible cataracts, and his underside is covered in lumps that might be tumors. Most Labs his age have gone down in the hips by now, but other than a periodic stumble, the only noticeable sign of Bailey’s old-ness are his white face and his new habit of pooping wherever he darn well feels like.
That crazy old dog just keeps on ticking. Bailey eats like a horse, comes in the house by going up and down the stairs unaided, goes on short walks, and even runs after me in the backyard every once in a while.