Theo,in his decline into old dogma,looks at me increasingly in denial of his name,like the line of his white hair scar compliments of Sully in a fight that saw blood spewed evrywhere,spots of black on the metal walls testament to his resolve.He outlives sullivan by a year,and his nuzzles in the middle of the night are his testament to his missing him too.Cuddles to make up for the absense of a fallen brother.And Irene,anxious to get in the pocket and curl up in the warmth of our love...does she remember sully as well?90 pounds of dog missing from our pack bed?I miss him.And I think that maybe they do too.I know Ann does.And as Theo fades from our memory I hear him say I am not Theo,I am dog,I am canis...and I choose you to be my master.
They got my baby covered,that's for sure.And that jagged spot between them is mine.
Cuddles and snuggles that speak a language all their own...of sighs and stretches that speak a language of love...dogs and man.Powerful magic.
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