I’m laying here in bed with my old dogs.

One is 9 and the other is 13.

Both are showing their signs of aging. Oddly, the younger one more so than the older one.

James kind of casually said to me the other day, “I think when you go, she will go.”

And I think that could be true. After all, we’ve done every big life thing together since we first met. She is my “soul dog.”

My old, best girl.