Around 8 p.m. I’m usually reading in the living room, or talking to Maria, or listening to music. This time of year, when I look down, there are always three dogs, gathered in their own circle, close to the woodstove.

This is a comforting and uplifting thing for me to see. I’m grateful that we can give them the lives they deserve. Fate favors a small dog bed to curl up in, Zinnia sprawls out on a soft mat, bud curls up on his wicker throne.