Today her few movements are deliberate and slow, conserving her energy for those brief moments of begging around the table at dusk while we eat dinner. We've given up on the "no people food" rule, knowing that we too will want whatever comfort and pleasure we can get as we approach the end of our lives in this world. Or maybe we're just suckers for those eyes we remember as a puppy that so fortunately landed in our laps almost fourteen years ago.

She was never very smart, nor was she well behaved as she broke through her electronic fence gallivanting about and soiling angry neighbors lawns, only to trot up innocently with tail wagging as we scolded her once again for her forgivable transgressions. But she is ours and she has provided us the unconditional love and companionship that only a dog can.

Her Aussie tendencies shined bright as she herded the kids in our backyard. She loved going on the boats but hated the water. People remarked on her beauty everywhere we went, and they could only see the outer shell that reflects a kind and caring soul who could actually never harm anyone, regardless of how fiercely the Rot in her barked at those approaching the front door.

There is something about this journey, with her spending most of her days with me here in my office as I stare out over the cool grey lake and autumn settles in with alternating doses of splendor and fury. This morning, for the first time, she beat me down to the office, waiting for my arrival at her spot on the floor.

This confluence of events and their timing in my life are not lost on me. There is a lesson in all of this and I will open my heart to learn as I say goodbye to an old, dear friend who won't be on the floor much longer.

You will be missed, B.B., and always cherished as a member of the family who brought us joy and simple pleasure during your faster days some time ago and, perhaps more so, today.