And here Queen Zoey lounges on her New Zealand
Sheepskin bed, showing off the Boychick's new floor.
Her spots and ticking, once so black, are going white with age, and she likes to lounge in the sun more of late. She still plays, but less often during the day, and for less time.
Here she demonstrates her play-bow, before she fetches the ball. It takes her a few tries to get it into her mouth, too.
And no matter who throws it, she always brings it back to the CGP. She knows the hand that feeds her!
But the two have uncanny similarities in personality.
They are both dainty Princesses, they hold their bodies and tails in the same way, and when Zoey was younger she had the same calm curiosity.
Both are a little on the thin side, too.
Ruby with the leggy thinness of late puppyhood.
Zoey with the stiff thinness of old age.
Ah, dear Zoey. Are you eleven? Twelve maybe. You were certainly at least a two when we rescued you in January 2000. But you were not yet three, according to the vet. Well, old girl, I know exactly how you feel on those cold mornings when the barometers falling and we both get out of bed stiff with arthritis.
But love is wasted on the young, they say.