Duncan and I had a lovely evening. Our friends Rene (check out her Stapleton video here) and Donnie, and their daughter Nora, invited us to dinner at their house, with some other friends, Mike and Beth Martin, and their sons, Mitchell and Marcus. Duncan, was, as always, included in the invitation, but I didn't know if I'd take him as I sometimes like a night off. In the end I opted to bring him along as they like him and he likes them and having a day off isn't always all that. Besides, it's not often these days that Dunc gets to play on stairs or nose through other people's things.
It was great night. After the preliminary round of jokes about Larry Craig, we made dinner and sat at the table talking around a flock of purple balloons, which the kids were playing with, and which kept raining down on our plates. Duncan sat close–under the table–and stayed out of the way. I figured he'd situate himself near the kids, as they were the most gullible and the most likely to slip him French fries or pieces of their burgers. But he didn't, and they didn't, and I liked knowing he wasn't part of the mischief.
It was only after we got home and I was walking him in the rain that I fully felt the value of his presence there tonight. Each of the families had representation through their children, and I had mine. He made me proud; Mike, who recently lost one of the best Goldens I've ever met, said that Dunc was a good dog, a mellow dog (which couldn't be further from the truth, but I liked that he thought it).
He's a good boy and I'm proud of him and love him more than I love my own arms. I could not ask for a better friend and companion.