Black and Brown

They would never actually cuddle up next to me, unless it was freezing outside. Then the brown one would sleep curled in next to me. It wasn't for love though, it was for warmth. This same brown one would run away any chance he got. And the black one would follow, too, though he mostly stayed closer. Except when we hiked. Then both of them would scout up ahead and wait for me. They would go in the direction I told them to go in. They would come back when I called. Probably because they were hungry. Or because I took them on death marches of 14 miles in November. The brown one's paws were all torn up after one such adventure. It was my fault.
They kept me company on those long days. Even if they would jump off the chair when I sat next to them, I still felt they liked it better when I was there. The black one would sing and was perpetually hungry. He was fatter than the brown one, but could run longer distances at a faster pace.

I wonder what they are doing now.

My dogs.