He's still lively, social and affectionate. But I can tell his vision is beginning to fail him. He's always eaten out of the big beige and black bowl, but lately he thinks his bowl is empty when it's not. I don't think he can see the kibble against the black anymore.
So I dug out the blue/white bowl for him. It was a gift to me from my late uncle. Decorated like the tiles at Hemingway's Key West home. This bowl was first used by Tara, decades ago, back in my old apartment. Then by my beloved Joey. And now Reynaldo.
I know this is the natural order of things. We all grow older. But Rey is right here as I post this, and accepting that these things happen does not make it any easier.
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