The dog's agenda is short an open and will not change some random morning. Scratch my neck. Fill up that bowl. Make sure I get to bark at the unknown, and let's get that leash out, my bipedal provider.
Lileks gets dogs, and his is and old fart like mine are.
For him there's no yesterday. There's not even a winter, behind or ahead. There's just the smell of the lake and the cool balm of the water. He wasn't wondering whether this was our last summer together.
He was stiff the next day, but when I said "Lake?" he got up and headed to the car. More slowly than before, but still game. Let's go, boss. Let's go.