I've come to the realization that no matter how idiosyncratic and weird my dog Toby is, he's still got a lot of life in him at ten years old. He's a small, 15-pound, wired-haired terrier mutt of one sort or another, and he lounges around this place like it's his palace. I nicknamed him King Tobes a long time ago, and it fits, to an extent. Thing is, he has this weird, hyper bark-and-wag thing he does when he becomes overwhelmed with desire, usually to be near you or get petted, but if you're just an ounce too rough with him, he whines as if he's been brutally assaulted. It's a very fine line. But funny. So we're delicate with him, but then I wonder if that feeds into his alpha-male sense of entitlement.
But the point is, he still gets hyper for his walks, still tries to boss the cats, still absorbs all of Lily's insanity, and still stands as regal as ever. Vet says he's healthy. That's more than kind of great.