He’s a year old if he’s a day, just starting to toddle, careening down a hill in Central Park like a little car without breaks.
Mom is behind him, smiling, her honey blonde hair waltzing in the breeze, while an elderly white Lab nobly stands watch.
He walks slower these days, this 4-legged member of the family, arthritis assaulting his hips, like any long time nanny or granny… Nana in Peter Pan.
But he can still tender his charge like a tiny ship, making sure as he tumbles a familiar face is always there to greet him.
I watch this mini episode of a present day Lassie, my heart strings pulled, knowing, the little boy’s first loss, will be the first friend he ever made.