Zeke is coming up on 15 years old. He has a few more bumps than he started off with, the mustache is now fully “silvered,” and his frisbee days are long behind him. He still manages to walk the three and a half miles to or from work once or twice a week, along with shorter walks (1-2 miles) around the neighborhood. And while he sports a bit of a limp and doesn’t trot way out in front anymore, he soldiers on. Zeke spends more time smelling the roses, so to speak, and sometimes I have to forcibly urge him along lest we spend the entire afternoon in a particularly odoriferous corner of New Hampshire.