Lucky Seven

Reacher passed the one-year mark the end of August, which according to some sources, makes him about seven in people years. Considering his behavior, I'd say that's about right.

Much like children of that age, Reacher knows the rules of the house, but doesn't always follow them. He understands who's boss (ME!) and he's willing to tow the mark when we're together. But he still isn't trustworthy enough to be left on his own. He works hard to please me ... except for the times when he doesn't. At one year of age -- or seven -- Reacher is still very much a work in progress.

He loves roughhousing like most seven-year-old boys. Vega is his top pick for wrestling and chasing, mostly because she's available. Frankly though, he's not choosey. He will jump and play with any canine at the dog park willing to indulge him.

He loves to run as much as any young boy with long legs and energy to burn. To Reacher, it really doesn't matter if he has a companion to race with or not. I often see him all by himself, sprinting past a window at full tilt as if he's heading for the finish line.

At home, he'll settle for sitting close since he's now too big to fit in my lap. He would hop into bed with me every night if I'd let him even though he has a perfectly cozy bed of his own.

You can count on seven-year-old boys to annouce with some regularity, "You're the best!" And I'm certain that's what Reacher would tell me too, if only he could talk.