Aging.

Bacon, you are getting older.  That's just a fact.  But, well, you're acting older this year..

Your brother from another mother Bebo is still kicking it just fine, at the exact same 7 years of life as you, because he's not a pug.  And your little brother Pippen, well, he gets you going every once in a while, but, there's no way you can keep up with that kind of energy.

You're the kind of dog who absolutely loves to rock a Snuggie... but your punk brothers are always teasing you about it when you wear it, trying to rip it off for fun.  Have you heard the story about Joseph and his amazing technicolor dreamcoat?  They're just jealous baby.

The hairs on your Velvet Elvis muzzle are turning all white. Your hearing is going, and is getting more selective than ever.  There was a time that the sound of one singular Cheerio hitting the kitchen tile would send you scrambling from any corner or level of the house.  Now we have to walk up to you and make emphatic hand gestures when it's time to go outside, or you don't hear our call.  And you hate getting up when you're comfortable.  Even if it's been hours since you've been out.

But you are still a remarkably sweet, simple boy.  You're still unbelievably clumsy.  Absolutely a bull in a china shop wherever you go- good thing you love to sleep so much.  You're just all about companionship and love, and treats.  Your warm squishy body and your deep pug snores are still a great comfort to me.  I always hated that you like to be nestled under my arm in that certain way you love, but then last year Temple Grandin informed me that you love to be squeezed because it makes you feel secure and relaxed in a sometimes harsh world- and so now I comply much more often.  And I don't mind as much when you fight to wedge yourself between us in bed. 

You're slowing down, but all good things that make you you are still 100% there. 

And just look at that mug...