Once again the skies cleared and the rain trailed off as I got to Buster’s in the morning. The old man was ready to go as usual, slowed only by a tickle in his throat. Undaunted he lapped at the wet grass as we walked, gradually picking up speed. As much as he thought it was water he needed, the walking was what opened up his lungs. And once you could draw a full breath, Buster was as chipper and eager as I’ve seen him. Him. And why not? It’s a beautiful smelling day after all.