I started sitting for the Warrens in 2015.
They traveled often. Two weeks in spring, a month every summer, holidays with family.
They had four dogs.
Buster.
Chester.
Penny.
And Mabel.
The youngest was already 11 years old when I first met them.
The oldest was 16.
I remember thinking:
“These dogs are ancient.”
I assumed I’d watch them pass away over the next few years.
But something strange happened.
Every time I came back to their house…
They were still there.
Still wagging.
Still happy.
Buster turned 12. Then 13. Then 14.
Chester hit 15… then 16.
Penny reached 17 and still chased squirrels.
And Mabel, the dog who was already 16 when I met her, lived to 19.
Meanwhile, my own dogs were dying young.