The grace of old dogs
Before I owned the Loudest Dog in The South Bay, I had Buck. A coonhound like the current model, Buck was sweet, soft spoken, playful and full of mischief.By the time he died when he was 17 in 2004, the red fur on his face was mostly gray. His gait was slow and he could hardly make it to the corner and back when I took him out to do his business. his body was covered with lumps and he could hardly see.
It's something that happens to all dog owners: Their rambunctious puppies somehow turn into fragile old dogs right before their eyes.
Here's a beautiful essay about how special an old dog can be.
Not long before his death, Harry and I headed out for a walk that proved eventful. He was nearly 13, old for a big dog. Walks were no longer the slap-happy Iditarods of his youth, frenzies of purposeless pulling in which we would cast madly off in all directions, fighting for command. Nor were they the exuberant archaeological expeditions of his middle years, when every other tree or hydrant or blade of grass held tantalizing secrets about his neighbors. In his old age, Harry had transformed his walk into a simple process of elimination--a dutiful, utilitarian, head-down trudge.



Daily Breeze reporter Donna Littlejohn has shared her homes with a succession of wonderful, funny, and occasionally difficult canines -- Muffin, Fritz, Ellie, Mercy, Pilgrim and now Cowboy, an Australian shepherd-border collie, and Tess, a border collie. From strong-willed terriers to weirdly obsessed Australian shepherds, they've invaded her world with boundless energy, wet noses, muddy paws and soggy tennis balls. But they've really brought so much more than that -- like laughter and joy, some unexpected life lessons, and more than a few tears along the way.
Josh Grossberg grew up with the usual array of animals: goldfish, dogs, hamsters, parakeets and turtles. He now owns the loudest dog in the South Bay(
Buck was a pretty baby. Reminds me of a Redbone Coonhound I used to babysit.