We lost a dog to old age on Tuesday.
Xerox was 15, born here in Alaska while I was still in my junior year of high school back in Indiana. He was an excellent lead dog, and sired many of the younger dogs in the yard. I first met him when I visited last May, and he had dug a massive hole in his circle. The hole was big enough for several dogs to lay in, and he would drag his food bowl down into it and eat in relative peace, below all the ruckus generated by 30+ hungry dogs.
He would dance for pets, running around his circle and hopping, then coming back for more. He got sick a couple of months ago, and eventually stopped dancing during his slow decline. We kept hoping he would rally back and be fine, like some of the older dogs tend to do, but his downward spiral was irreversible.
Goodbye, Xerox. Run forever, now.