Max was a little tired today although he was very attentive and even a bit more social than he has been of late. This afternoon he ate his biscuit with a bit of difficulty but sought out every crumb leaving not a trace.
As soon as he was finished he laid his once powerful head between his front paws and dropped off to a dream of endless fields of green summer grass where bunnies bound and all other friendly creatures await in playful expectancy. In a blink, he was running and leaping over the hills spinning and singing in his high baritone falsetto. He looked back one last time as if expecting us to throw the greatest most fantastical stick of all, then ran like lightning over the summer hill and disappeared into his forever.
Max died today peacefully. He may have been as much as 17 years old. Although it may not have been exactly this way, it's how I wish to remember it. We'll miss him.