Maturation

Arthur turned eight seven this year, and I think he finally looks like a grown-up dog. Or at least, he looks like a grown-up dog when he's not panting like a crazy person or running around the house with a shit-eating grin on his face. In his more pensive moments, you can almost imagine him thinking about politics or the state of the environment.

Or maybe not.

Maybe he's still just wondering how long he has to wait until dinner time.