A Better Day

Bogan ate the chicken we gave him for dinner and even hung around in the kitchen with the other two, looking for a treat--- which, of course, we gave him.

It's hard for me that now when I come home, Kelso and Dixie Chick still greet me at the front door, but Bogan stays in his bed.

It is so hard for me to realize that he is an old guy, probably 80 years old in dog years (Wolfhounds only live to be 6-8 and Bogan will be 8 on February 22, two days before my birthday)

I know he is tired. I know he has cancer. I know he is old. I just don't want it to end.