He is my sugar-faced little man. It seems like just yesterday, he was my little boy.
Serious and uncomfortable with the camera,
it all melts away for Daddy.
Our Bella picked him out as a puppy and raised him right.
They were inseparable.
There has never been a human or animal he did not befriend.
In his grief at her passing, he chose a wild child named Yogi.
He does his best to keep our hooligan in line. No matter their size difference, Jackson always wins. Or Yogi always lets him.
He tolerates the foster puppies that Yogi welcomes with joy. And yet, they gravitate to him like a cranky old grandfather.
He is treated with deference.
He is cat-like. Independent. Solitary. Never a hugger. For years, he would find his own quiet spot in the house and always slept at the foot of the bed. Away.
Now, at 11, he is different. He wants to be near. I find him sleeping on the pillows by morning.
He welcomes kisses.
He insists on greeting everyone with a toy and dares you to chase him.
We always let him win.
His ridiculous gaping smiles…
have turned to hilarious toothless grins.
He snores. He imposes his will with relentless stares. And he is sweet beyond words.
He is my sugar-faced little man.
And I hope he is with us forever and ever.
Gardens For Goldens 