Three months ago, we lost our 13-year-old Pekingese, Nico. The vet came to the house to put him down, and we chose his favorite space, the screened front porch for his last minutes.
Nico came to us as a three-year-old, having spent those formative years locked in a cage. He didn't waste any time adjusting to his new digs. He collected and guarded every dog toy in the house. And he soon discovered the joy of running around his back yard and deck barking at those who passed our corner house.

Nico with one of his many toys.
At first it was just other dogs, then it was adults pushing baby carriages, then he finally graduated to barking at the UPS and FedEx trucks.
But his finest moment came when we screened in the front porch. Nico realized instantly that this gave him an unprecedented view of the neighborhood. We were at a crossroads and he could see dogs, people, and trucks coming and going in four directions.
And he maximized his efforts and began to bark almost non-stop, to the point where we had to shut him in the house so the neighborhood could enjoy some peace.

Nico had a happy life with us and could usually be seen
with a toy in his mouth and his tail wagging. Not in this
portrait of him on one of his many beds (all of our living
room furniture).
After he died, I apologized to the neighbor across the street for all of Nico's barking.
"You mean that was just one dog?" she asked.
Yup, just one dog, and we miss him.
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