I remember when you were a baby

and they brought you home, you were so small I could wrap my arms around you and hold you like a stuffed animal but I didn't. because I was a little scared of you, those first couple years. you would bite me. you were so sweet though even then. I wasn't there but when you were very little my dad took you to the beach, hours away, just drove there and back in a day. he put you in the sand and let you ramble around and dip into the ocean. you liked the ocean. we used to say you were an old man from the time you were three, and that's true. but last year, when your body had caught up to your Oldness we took you back to that same beach and let you sit on that sand and in that water. you drank it and hated the taste and made a funny face. afterwards, we dried you off with a towel and even though it was just me and my dad I sat with you in the back and pet you for the three hours. for dinner we bought you a plain hamburger from cookout and you ate it like a person, wrapping your mouth around the bun too. and I laughed and said clever dog. and last night when I slept on the floor with you and cried you put a paw on my arm. you're a good dog