Nobody was there last night to lick the dishes in the dishwasher.
Nobody was in the bedroom last night to trip over, or this morning to clean up after.
Nobody needed to get encouraged down the stairs last night before I went to bed, to walk outside for 50 feet, look confused and walk shakily back inside.
Nobody slept all day, making me tread lightly so he wouldn’t wake up and painfully stumble around the kitchen, looking to see if anything had changed in his world.
Nobody walked into the legs of the kitchen table, or peed on the carpet when he couldn’t remember to walk over to the back door and signal to go out.
But even at the end, nobody was a better, sweeter, more affectionate dog than Duffy. Rest in peace, old friend. I hope you catch what you were running after in your dreams.