He also happens to be in possession of a lusty baritone.
Yesterday it was his birthday. It's a significant day in our family annals, but even more so this year because he was eight in human years and 56 in dog years, and that means I get to post this bitter-sweet poem by Billy Collins.
A DOG ON HIS MASTER
by Billy Collins
As young as I look,
I am growing older faster than he,
seven to one
is the ratio they tend to say.
Whatever the number,
I will pass him one day
and take the lead
the way I do on our walks in the woods.
And if this ever manages
to cross his mind,
it would be the sweetest
shadow I have ever cast on snow or grass.
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