In the second pet first aid class I taught, someone suggested we bring a live dog. With that thought, Ricky, my golden retriever, joined the crew. Ricky loved coming with us to workshops and tradeshows. In fact, he would walk the trade show floor liked he owned it. Ricky knew everyone loved him and was usually greeted by his human friends well before I was even acknowledged.
When I stare into the cloudy eyes of my elderly poodle Jesse, I often wonder—why can’t our pets live forever? This old timer no longer hears the garage door open or his name being called. He sleeps more, eats less, and moves slower. His chocolate brown coat has thinned and is sprinkled with white. At fourteen, Jesse is a senior citizen.