Ben adores Sage. He's smelly and drools a lot (but so does B) and is losing his hair. His eyes are droopy and he whines almost continuously. But, B adores him, nearly as much as his father. He loves to pet him and kiss him and play his hind quarters like a drum.
I'm fearful of the day when Sage is no longer around. I know that day isn't far away. Sage has lived a happy 11 years already, an eternity for a dog of his size. And I know that the kids probably won't understand when it happens; they're likely not to realize that he's even missing. I'll know though. I'll understand when they wonder why the dog beds have disappeared. The saddest thought is that they'll be too young to remember him except through the tales we tell.
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