Hobie is old.
There's just no gettin' around that sad fact. What makes it worse is that his will has not caught up with his body. He wants with a not so quiet desperateness to go for a walk. But once we're out, he poops out after about 100 feet. Then I get to feel like the most cruel person in the world as I drag him down the street to home. It seems like it's better to take him out than to never exercise him, but I have to admit, it's depressing.
I wish I could make him a young dog again. I wish he didn't feel pain every time he tries to get up or sit down.
My poor sweet Hobie
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