Ahh Caro I wrote this a few weeks before the best dog I ever had died- its been four years and I still miss him- this might not be exactly what you are lookng for but there are a few antics in there-
We first met when you were only six weeks old. Black as coal but for the patch of white on your chest, your eyes barely seen in the face of dark fur. You practically named yourself; Bear. You grew into an athletic and energetic teenager, accompanying us on horseback rides, always outrunning the horses even in a full gallop. You were a thing of beauty to watch, head bobbing in time to your gait, legs pumping as you ate up the ground at your feet.
My boy, my Bear.
At two you tipped the scales at eighty lean mean pounds and scared the crap out of friends and strangers alike, but I knew there was nothing scary about you. Hiding under anything that could accommodate you during thunderstorms, or whenever I ran the vacuum cleaner, you were a big furry, black chicken.
My scary, big, Bear.
You forgave me when I screamed at you for eating the TV remote, the portable phone and the kitchen cabinet. That was when we learned about crate training.
I forgave you the time you dropped a deer skull scavenged from the woods on my back, or killed the groundhog and cracked opened its head to get at the good stuff and then licked me in the face, all forgiven, all great stories saved in time.
We never gave up on you when you went missing for over a day. Lying in a hunters foot trap, quiet and still, we must have passed you half a dozen times until we realized it was you.
The uncertainty at whether you would loose your leg or not and the relief at finding out the trap was too small and you were too big. Keeping me company in the quiet of night when I couldn’t sleep, defending me from the boogey man, both real and imagined.
My hero, my Bear.
Always a gentleman with the cats, never chasing them, letting them sit on you, even letting one little orphan try to nurse off your teats. That cat thought it was a dog until the day it died, my reluctant nurse maid, my Bear.
Babysitter extraordinaire, letting me know when the kids where getting into something they shouldn’t be. Waking them up with sloppy doggy-kisses in the morning and even dragging them out of bed when necessary. Helping me herd the horses when they got out, doing fence repairs on cold November days with me. You had a knack for finding the downed areas I missed. It seems you have always been there and now I watch you and wonder where the years have gone.
You lie sleeping at my feet, most of the black threaded through with white now, your muzzle nearly gray with it. Arthritic hips betray your youth and keep you house bound these days. I have to help lift you up the two steps to the door as you whine and yip your frustration. The ninety pound puppy has taken your alpha role and it kills me to see you relent to her, but always the gentleman you have taken this with grace and dignity.
You still want to go running with the horses and it breaks my heart to have to leave you at home. You look at me as if I have betrayed you, when it is your own failing body that has done the betraying.
Thirteen short years, it isn’t fair, and it isn’t nearly enough for one of your strength and heart. I knew going into this I would be the one saying goodbye, but I didn’t count on you taking a piece of my soul with you.
I watch you kick in your sleep, dreaming the dreams dogs dream. I hope in your dreams you are young and free of pain and when you run you always beat the horses up the hill, tail wagging, waiting for me to join you, for that is how I will always see you.
My first dog, my friend, my Bear.
No worries then. Carry on. 
