The instance of IVS reminded me, that whilst he still acts so puppy-like, Whistler is, in fact, just over thirteen years old. The eldest of the three. It'll be two years, this coming autumn, Chevy retired from long walkabouts with me, the sentence of arthritis making walks around town and jaunts to the Lair of the Boogieman with my daughter the limit of what he can do. The Bull's Head was his last hoorah.
Whistler will recover. That's the way of it. Over the last few days since the initial incident, he's started to regain his balance and walk more normal. It's the odd stumble, which reminds me he's still a little off. Sabina postulates if this has happened once, it could happen again. It would be unfortunate to have it occur out in the bush.
The Bull's Head hardly qualifies as a walkabout. There's climbing about the rock formation and the ruins of the Diamond Mine. Some of the locals do the trail daily instead of jogging, since it can be completed in an hour, at most, if one does not stop to take in the views or eat an apple. Be that as it may, that's where we're heading.
It's disheartening to contemplate this might be Whistler's last real walkabout with me. Our trip to another set of mine ruins, two days before the incident, was fraught with adventure. I consider just watching his recovery and hedging my bets. Be that as it may, here and now, I make sure there's plenty of treats in my pack for him. After all, up on the Bull's Head could be his retirement party.