our old dog, zach, lived to be almost 14 1/2 years old. he spent most of his life indoors, but loved to lay in the sun and bask, as he got old. our youngest daughter loved to go out there and brush him, and brush him. he ws part collie, and left tons of fur behind in the summer when she'd use that brush. we eventually had to have him put to sleep--his misery outweighed his joy, and his pain was evident. we all cried buckets, and it was about 6 months later when we finally got our border collie (who made it to 16 1/2). the youngest daughter was out in the back yard with maggie, the new dog, when she found a tiny deserted nest (it was fall, by then) in one of the brushy, overgrown trees. she came tearing back into the house with it in her hands--it was carefully lined with zach's unmistakeable buff and white fur. it brought back sweet memories of one of the best dogs ever. she carefully saved it, and it is in our china cabinet, still. it made brushing the new dog much more of a goal for the daughter, since it benefitted some other creature in the yard.
and i connect a lot of things to my childhood--even the sound of the forks i toss into the drawer--they are old silver-plate, and they "sing" when they hit each other in there. i hope that our kids will have some of those moments when they get older. (last night my son in law made a comment to my middle daughter that their son, who is one of two that i babysit, "smelled like grandma's house". i hope that's a good thing...)