I watched him fade.
Every day a little more of him slipped away. Life ebbed from that small, over-aged body until his back legs simply stopped working. Lifting them did nothing. He’d shove himself up on his front legs and drag himself as far as he could. The will was still there. The little fella just didn’t have the body left to match it.
Bubba was a white-and-black Jack-Rat—Jack Russell through and through. He’d been all fire once. Then age did what age does. Hearing went first. Then his...