As I watch my own youth slip through the years, I see her change, too… whiter, wiser, sweeter, wittier. She doesn’t take sh*t from anyone. She’s her own soul. She’s a Queen.

Though she insists she will live forever, I notice the slower, gentler pace of life settling into her old bones. I follow her pace and watch her be, the old lady she’s turning to be. Smelling everything and nothing. Running everywhere and nowhere. Those moments filled with beauty. Nature. Silence. Her. I wonder if she feels that, too. All those things she taught me to feel.

In the white muzzle and the bluing eyes of my old dog I see the beauty of a life well-lived. I hope she’s happy, as happy as a dog can be. I know I am, happy and incredibly lucky to have the chance to pass the time with an old dog. My old dog. My Juno. My favourite time of the day.