On the way up to the vet with Zeus last week, he rode in front with me.
I kept my hand on him the whole way, letting him know I was there for
him, that no matter what came next, I'd always be there for him in some
way.

About halfway to the vet's I had this fleeting thought, a stupid
whimsical thought, 'let's get a puppy!'

Then it was gone. The truth is, we're just better with older dogs, the
grey haired ones who have a little grey around the muzzle, who are
already housebroken and who want nothing more than a quiet place to
sleep and 2 square meals a day.

I'd be leaving something out if I didn't tell you that the bassets are
really not that well behaved. I blame this on our apparent inability to
train puppies. Even thought they're almost 8 now they still get into
shit and still counter surf every damn day. You can't say we didn't
try, but seriously, we are totally Old Dog People.

Someday, a day far far in the future, we'll go to the pound and find
ourselves another sweet old dog to love. But for now, I'm sort of
enjoying having what some would call a normal number of dogs.

I don't yet think about Zeus as healthy, right now I remember him as he
was just last week - too sick to get up, too tired to eat. I carried
him outside to pee, the day before he died he couldn't even stand up to
do it. He peed all over my leg that day. I guess that's when I knew
his borrowed time was just about up.

I look forward to the day where I remember mostly his hippity hopping
and that one bark of his. For now, we're waiting to pick up his ashed
and put them on top of Gus' where they belong.

Rest in peace sweet boy. You're definitely missed around here.