It’s me, Oliver! I’m handsome and sweet and tricky, as always. Good looks are in my DNA

so I can’t take a lot of credit for it. My sweetness is a choice, in case you choose to emulate me.

(Remember my vocabulary is extensive and comes naturally to me.) My trickiness? Now that is

something that I have created out of sheer guts and gusto. 

I will give you an example of how tricky I have always been and continue to be as I age ever so

gracefully. It’s best seen when I am prancing, and I do mean prancing, in front of you and any audience I can

conjure up with stolen treasures between my beautiful mandibles. I turn my head to look behind me to make 

Then I slide into place, snap up something I am sure you will want, and slip past you as neatly as I 

can, always quicker than you, even when you chase me. I can make quick turns and 360 changes.

The only way you can convince me to sacrifice the booty is if you bring me to the front door, extend your

palm, say “Thank you, Oliver!” in just the right tone of voice and open the door to let me outside. Even if I

didn’t really want to go outside, over years of practice, we have come to  a tacit agreement that being out-of-

doors on the deck with Biscuit is a satisfactory reward. Together, we are quite a force! I drop your sock or

shoe or dishtowel at your feet and often you reward me with a salmon treat. Then you open the door and 

Well, enough about trickiness. Let me announce my seventh completion of Therapy Animal

Certification. I am very proud of this accomplishment. My dear nephew Biscuit has not been

this successful-yet. I am sorry about this, but we all have our lessons to learn. Every two years,

as therapy animals, all animals and their handlers (that’s you!) are required to pass the same old test again. I

was stellar this time, absolutely perfect. It’s not nice to compare, but, well, let’s just say someone I know and

love was imperfect. He barked too much and too often. He hasn’t learned my reserve and sophistication. I 

One last thing before I sign off for today…reaching the ripe age of fourteen definitely has its merits.

Daddy hand feeds me my kibble if I pretend I’m not hungry. You are much more sympathetic if I need to pee 

Dogs like me know and understand a lot more than most people know and understand. 

But you, my dear family, accept and protect me and I lie next to your bed until I think you are safe. When

I hear you snore, I find my way into my own bed which you are kind enough to keep clean and cozy for me

until we start a new day. 

Advice from Oliver: Try to remember that turning fourteen definitely has its advantages.