It’s Chico’s “Got’cha Day” – seven years ago, I met my sister at the Danbury Fair Shopping Center in Danbury, CT (half way between DC and NH), had a bite of lunch, put Chico and his crate in my car, drove home, and my life changed. For the better. Immeasurably so. Permanently.

He’s about twelve now. The vet says he has no joint problems that would keep him from continuing to be active in dog sports. As long as I keep him from getting fat, keep his toenails trimmed, and we keep walking that hour-plus a day, he’s going to be fine for a long while.