Brody

Brody and I are curled up, taking a break in a suspiciously quiet house. He is definitely the best grand dog in the universe. He's now just a wee bit older than I in dog years and we commiserate. When I give him a T R E A T I don't ask him to do any tricks. We both know he can do the whole routine. I just give him some the tiny canine cookies and then we discuss how embarrassed we are about the recent political circus. 
 
He still assists me in the kitchen, snarfing up any crumb I drop. We have to be very careful because the Brodylator has a very particular digestive system (sooooo familiar) and while he thinks he wants to eat anything, his pancreas argues. 

His hearing isn't as acute as it once was (also quite familiar) and he subwoofs at things that are probably not actually threatening - the neighbor getting home, a car parked in front of the house, etc. And allergies (oh, tell me about it!) keep him from running around in the damp grass any more than is necessary. Now one short game of run and hide and seek is enough to tucker both of us out.
 
Brody and I go back a long way. He adopted Tim and Devin nine years ago. He was a city pup then. A working man. He worked for FCB with Tim, as an encourager. The company paid his adoption fees, food, medical, toys, grooming and incidentals, but he had to go to work each day and inspire people. He was excellent at his job, and like a lot of people wasn't really ready to give it up when he was retired a few years back.

But you know how it is. One enjoys a big corporate job with all the excitement and responsibility and then one adjusts to having kids and moving to the suburbs. It's not that life slows down. Oh, certainly not with Bump and Bell around, it's just that it's different.
 
And at this age, Brody is certainly grateful that the nanny comes every day to take the major responsibility for the kids, though he still has to defend them from real and imagined dangers, serve as a model for strange costumes, and a mountain for toy cars from time to time.
I've noticed that his bones seems to stick out through his muscular body more than they used to. He says the same about me, though he did mention that much of me continues to get "softer" (his words, not mine.)

Oh, the Brodster and I agree that things change and remain the same. It's a special bond between a Nana and a grand dog.