Morning Pair

I pass them nearly every morning - an aging pair who walk the city blocks near my office building. Each moves with a stiffness that speaks of age.

The man is barrel chested, his curly mop of hair still predominately brown but his beard gone mostly gray. He carries a walking stick in one hand, usually grasped in the middle so that it is parallel to the ground - a safety measure should his joints complain too much. He is constantly mindful of his companion kept nearby by the leash he holds in his other hand.

The leash is as much a safety measure as the walking stick. The collie has turned a faded silver-red from nose to tail and places each foot with a care. Periodically the dog pauses to look up lovingly at its companion, then staggers a step or two before again finding a rhythmic pace. I suspect the only time the elderly collie thinks of running now is in dreams.

I wonder just how long the two have been together -  and what will happen when one of them is no longer able to make the daily journey, or worse yet, is no longer there at all. I have a suspicion they both hope that when that time comes they will move on together.