Old man

In the foreground is my old dog, whom I loved dearly. He was 12 when I got him from the dog home. He was a quiet little soul who barked twice in the two years I had him. His teeth were rotten, his nose was scabby, he had a chunk missing from his ear and he limped, but he was a heartbreaker all the same. He liked to sit on my feet with his back to me. I'd scritch his neck from this position and he'd look away, pretending it was someone else.