This was written in 2004 when Grandma and I were in England:
Pembroke Welsh Corgis
Red and white,
Can’t stand to be together,
Yet can’t bear to be apart.
Pepper bounces along ahead,
Stopping to berate her sister
For lagging behind,
But warning her not to try to lead.
She has the authority to be first
To each spot,
To check for the odor of other breeds.
Ginger doesn’t mind.
She plods along at her own pace,
Knowing full well the scent will wait for her.
They both limp now.
Not enough to keep them from their walk,
But just enough to elicit our sympathy.
We are happy that they welcomed us to their pack.
Well, that was then and this is now; they're both 10 years old - 70 in human years (?). Pepper is showing her age, graying around her muzzle, and her limp is much more noticable. But she stills wants her daily walk, which doesn't always happen and which is shorter now. Despite both hind legs having been operated on for torn ACLs (Anterior Cruciate Ligaments) when she was still growing, she can dance for her supper (no, we don't make her do that, she just does it to show her impatience). She's my shadow; I have to keep looking around to make sure she's not under my feet.
Ginger suffers from arthritis. She can't always walk, so scoots along on one hip. We've put down rugs and runners to help her get traction to be able to get up, but she doesn't always try. Her left front paw is swollen, which makes it harder for her to get up. Grandma carries her out in the morning, then goes in to start fixing their breakfast; sometimes that's enough of an incentive to get her to walk into the house. Not always. She was Grandma's shadow and still keeps her eye on Grandma; she wants to be close, but can't always arrange it.
How can we be so lucky to have such loyal companions?