There’s nothing like being greeted by a puddle of pee in the morning. Such a warm welcoming to the day is normal when you’re me. My Australian Shepard Archie is senile, but as loving as a dog can be.

I first met Archie when I was 8. Tongue out, eyes wide open, with a crazed look on his face, he stood out amid a group of average dogs. Archie hopped around in circles as soon as he saw me. My parents thought it would take long to decide on a new pet, and wanted to see every dog the shelter had to offer. I had already made up my mind; I wanted Archie.

“Are you sure?” they asked. “There’s something odd about that dog.”

I was sure.

My parents were right. Archie was, well, a little odd. His hyperactive behavior kept him constantly panting and he thought jumping repeatedly on your chest was a pleasant experience. All of that was fairly normal behavior for Archie. What wasn’t normal was the blank stare he would constantly give me as if his brain had stopped functioning. It made guests uncomfortable but I had grown used to it. That’s just who he was.

Over the years, Archie became a best friend to me, always wanting to go on a walk and nestle his head in my lap. He was always there. No one else in the world could ever be so excited to see me after only a couple hours of absence.

Things suddenly changed, and I think I can contribute it to one single event.

I was about to give Archie a belly rub on my bed when he rolled over in anticipation. Everything would have been fine if he didn’t roll off the bed. At first I laughed at such a silly mistake. Then I realized he had hit his head on the wooden dresser beside the bed. He seemed extremely shaken up for the rest of the day, and from that moment on he took a gradual decline in mental health.

Archie was no longer the spry dog he once was. Things didn’t quite excite him the way they used to. The veterinarian attributed this decline to old age, but I could not help but think the head injury had something to do with it. He no longer remembered to pee outside, and our tile floor soon became a constant puddle needing to be cleaned. When walking through the tight hallway, he sometimes would not budge. Calling his name had no effect. I had to physically move the dog that once could not stop moving.

Seeing Archie take such a dramatic turn for the worse was disheartening. He did not seem like the dog I knew and loved so very much. I still care for him to this day, but things are not the same. One day, maybe soon, he will pass away. I hope that I can remember him as the energetic and loving dog he is deep down.