Saying goodbye to “The Office” won’t be easy for me.

I was in seventh grade when I first tuned into NBC’s documentary-style cringe-fest. At the time I started watching, I was fascinated by flip phones, chaperoned mixers and shoes with wheels. The show was undoubtedly among my first exposures to something of redeemable value, and I quickly connected with its effortless wit and heart. As “The Office” helped me through my formative years, I watched the sitcom grow up before my very eyes.

I can tell you when and where Jim Halpert first kissed Pam Beesly. I can recite Michael Scott’s fake-suicide speech and even re-enact the infamous bird funeral. With little hesitation, I can say that season three’s “Safety Training” is the best episode ever, although “Product Recall” deserves to be in the conversation. I’m not embarrassed to say I have loved “The Office” like a child loves a first puppy.

And what a show to fall in love with. When the NBC mega-hit was in its prime, it was as perceptive as any TV comedy. Its central characters had an effortless chemistry, while its writing was as whip-smart as it was poignant and sweet. Now, with the final season rounding the corner into the home stretch, millions of people are surely reaching for their box of Kleenex and “World’s Best Boss” mug.

But that’s not why it’s hard for me to say farewell.

It’s difficult to wave goodbye because, as hard as it is for me to admit it, “The Office” has been kind of crappy here at the end. If “The Office” was like my first puppy, then during these past few seasons, it’s been like that old dog everyone pretends is still cute. It’s slow and dim-witted, and my relatives are all kind of like, “Is that thing really still alive?” Sure, we can all pretend it’s as good as it once was, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s a lazy old thing that farts in its sleep.

The show began its downward descent into mediocrity around season five. With the decision to pursue the Michael Scott Paper Company storyline, “The Office” became a second-rate TV comedy. The writing staff — while I love them and admire the ones who have gone on to craft the incredible “Parks and Recreation” — shot themselves in the foot so many times they were left with a bloody stump. Jim’s pranks, Dwight Schrute’s aggression and Pam’s shy vulnerability all began to feel derivative and contrived.

It could never recover. Sometimes when a show drags on for too long, it just can’t be funny anymore. When central characters start having babies and actors abandon the show for Hollywood, it’s hard to ever re-establish the magic of earlier seasons. By the seventh “Office” entry, the show’s cast looked like it had a gun to its head, while writers seemed to be waving the white flag of surrender. It just aged into a fat pooch that didn’t want to ride in the car anymore.

So now, with just six episodes left, the “Office” fans of the world are left with an all-too familiar question. It’s the same question “The Simpsons” fans, “SpongeBob SquarePants” addicts and “C.S.I” junkies ask themselves every day: “Do I still love this show, even though it’s gotten so bad?” Well, it seems pretty simple to me. Fans of “The Office” don’t need to go all “Old Yeller” on their favorite program — they just need to remember it for how great it once was.

When I think of “The Office,” I don’t think about how it went bad in the later seasons. I think about how my family gathered around the TV on Thursday nights. I don’t think of the piss-poor writing of season six. I remember quoting old classics early in the morning on the way to high school. I’ve loved NBC’s revolutionary comedy since I was a wide-eyed seventh-grader, and I connected with the show’s overwhelming humor and heart. That’s the era of “The Office” I will always remember — I’m just going to ignore those lazy, old dog days.