I walked Zeke down Fouche Gap Road every weekend when I was working, and now since I have retired I walk him every day. When we got Lucy after my mother died, she began to accompany us. When we got Sam, he accompanied us. For a long time our two-mile walk took a little under an hour. We never hurried. There was always something to sniff, a squirrel or a passing car to watch.

A while ago our walks started taking around an hour, partly because I let Sam and Zeke play at the turn-around point. Sam is a whirlwind; he dives in and grabs Zeke by the leg or neck, then jumps away, spins and dives back in. For the most part, Zeke stands and parries, or rolls over onto his back and pushes with his legs while Sam dances around. Sometimes Zeke chases Sam, at least to the end of the leash. Sometimes Zeke even seems to initiate the play. So, that takes a little while.

Lately our walks have been lasting closer to an hour and a half. It seems like I’m always urging Zeke along. He stops and stares into the distance. He cuts in front of me and stops, forcing me to stop. He drags along slowly as we climb the mountain and then climb up our driveway. I find myself wondering if he is slowing down because he’s getting old.

His white face makes it hard to tell whether he’s getting gray. If you look closely in the brown on the right side of his face, it seems like there are some white hairs mixed in, but nothing like Lucy.

We have had Zeke since around the middle of 2006, so we know he is at least 10 years old. He was an adult when we got him; I’m sure he was at least a year old then, maybe even older. That’s pretty old for a dog, especially a big dog.

So I wonder. It’s inevitable, of course. Sooner or later the signs will be obvious, and that’s going to be hard for him and for me.

I suppose I’m not that far behind him.