Unknown to the old dog, these walks had been shortened,
mercifully, and slowed down, to accommodate themselves to Lad's
waning strength: But the time came when even a half-mile, at
snail-pace, over a smooth road, was too much for his wind and
endurance.
Nowadays, when they were going for a walk, Lad was first lured
into the house and left there. The ruse did not fool him, any
more than it would have deceived a grown man. And his feelings
were cruelly hurt at every instance of this seeming defection on
the part of his two worshiped human chums.
"He still enjoys life," mused the Master, one day in late summer,
as he and the Mistress sat on the veranda, with Lad asleep at
their feet. "And he can still get about a bit. His appetite is
good, and he drowses happily for a good deal of the day; and the
car-rides are still as much fun for him as ever they were. But
when the time comes--and he's breaking fast, these past few
months--when the time comes that life is a misery to him--"
"I know," interposed the Mistress, her voice not quite steady. "I
know.
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