My dogs are getting up there. One is 14 years old and the other 13, a German Shepard mix and a poodle-Maltese. Little things add up to old age. No more jumping on furniture or pulling on the leash. It’s tough not to notice. I have to fight the urge to nudge them while they sleep. You know, just in case they’ve died overnight. I cry about losing them. Until I laugh and call them the walking dead. Then I cringe and hope I didn’t just jinx myself and a car hits me. Then I forget about it all and we snuggle.