"Not the least hard thing to bear when
they go from us, these quiet friends,
is that they carry away with them so
many years of our lives. Yet, if they
find warmth therein, who would
begrudge them those years that they
have so guarded?
And whatever they take,
be sure they have deserved."
My sister's dog has died. He was adopted as a stray, a big grey faced part Lab, part who knows what, who loved people, food and sneaking naps on the sofa. Age crept up on him and with it the problems that aging bring.
I did this sketch of him last year, but as he hated having his photo taken, there never was a good reference to use, so the sketch never was elaborated into a portrait.