For reasons I couldn’t possibly explain, I woke up this morning just after dreaming about a scene involving Robert Crawley, the 7th Earl of Grantham, the patriarch of the Crawley family on Downton Abbey, the famous and wildly popular program broadcast in America on PBS.

I dreamt about several scenes when Lord Crawley, after being dressed by his butler, Joseph Molesley, marches down the grand staircase to breakfast accompanied by his ever-faithful and present hunting dog Pharoah, who died and was replaced by Isis, who died and was replaced by Abbie.

All three reminded me of Zinnia; I always wanted one of those noble hunting dogs to walk beside me.

When I woke up, Zinnia was sleeping with her head on my chest, having worked through her suspicion of my sleep apnea mask. Nothing makes her give up her favorite sleeping spot.

After breakfast, I decided to put on one of my new sweaters and take my regal dog out onto a chair by the back porch and take in the sun and survey my estate. I also wore my new blue suspenders. I admit to feeling grand, eating well, doing 15 arm lifts at the gym, losing weight, writing most of the day, studying clouds, taking photos, and sleeping.

They cannot take my good life or hope away from me, whatever else they do. I sit in the autumn of life with my fine dog, hunting for a good and meaningful life. We are getting there.

It was a sweet and satisfying moment, and Lady Maria spotted this and was moved to take a photo of the two of us looking over the land.

Zinnia seemed to get into the moment and, as directed, looked up lovingly at me. She always knows what to do.

I guess it was a dream that could come true.