Buster

Two years have passed since I first set eyes upon Buster, though it has flashed by in what feels like an instant. Two years ago I first held him in my arms, this tiny knot of spindling limbs, and later I would watch him as he frolicked and cavorted with his littermates – with Badger, Lola, Lulu and little Moe. Even now I can see him as he was. Even now. As if it were yesterday. A little under two years ago he ventured out into the world, to taste of its fruits and to wonder at its sights, and now he’s back. The prodigal son returned. A lot has changed – but not him.He’s bigger, true – roughly five times bigger, in fact – and the length of his stride has lengthened in kind. His teetering, puppyish gait has given way to a startling, arrow-sharp quickness. But, truly, little else has altered. His ears listen out for you, as they always have; his eyes watch out for you, as they always did; his heart beats quicker for you, as it always will. The sweetness remains undimmed only his legs are ...

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