old now, slow and completely deaf.

Irish dogs bark outside the house, early morning, dawn. Leave the bed to peer out of the window. There is nothing there but the beginnings of frost. All the grass and the trees turned white, the hardcore paths dusted white.
The dogs are silent now, and nothing is moving outside.

Later, it is brighter, the son is gathering his clothes for the day. He sees that his father is awake, and rushes over to give a hug..
Nice.
Then he goes away to play with his younger cousins, minecraft, similar joys, similar toys.

Get up find clothes, follow. Follow some time later, for his hat is on the floor, full of stones from the beach yesterday. He has collected them and now he has left his hat on the floor with the stones in it.
Tidy up a bit, push the suitcase under the bed.

Then down the corridor, hanging up the sons carelessly - strewn coat on the way.

Enter the kitchen, find the brother in distress, an unpleasant email from another brother bothers him.
He is off to his office to answer, leaves his freshly made coffee cooling on the table.
Sit down, help the nephew with that overcomplicated easter toy, a metal replica of Eifel's tower.
The hardly begun day has it's nice points.
already.
Turn on the computer and write this blog.
Watching the brothers young collie dog sitting on the top of a huge heap of earth, now overgrown with yellow and green gorse. He is watching things in the distance, attentive. Standing up, sitting down, always attentive.
Then he plays with a bone, shaking it, dropping it. Picking it up and carrying it away.
The old dog comes in, slowly. Tail wagging, she wants to be petted. She is old now, slow and completely deaf.