Seasons in the Sun

   When I was a child, probably about 8 or 9 years old, I read a story about a dog.  The dog was a collie, my favorite kind of dog at the time (and later.)  His name was Sunny and his master recounted all the times they had together, going on long walks, playing, and, best of all, to my mind, "roaming the fields." Those were the years when I used to spend lots of time in the fields behind and way into the yonder  behind  our house, and of course, with our dogs.  That was in the romantic period of my childhood so  I felt closely related to the theme of dog as best friend.
    During the course of the story, the author recounted how his dog grew old and no longer wanted to accompany him on their much loved walks. All the dog wanted to do now was lie in the sun.  No more roaming.  So sad to accept.
    Today I sit in the chair in my living room, in front of the large picture window.  The sun is streaming in, and I don't want to leave my position to do any of the things that should be done. I only want to feel the warmth.  So sad.