I've told it before, but one of my favorite stories about my dad was one my mom sent me last winter about him and their old dog, Cassie:
"Cassie has always LOVED the snow. Her thick fur and all, she would have been a great sled dog up north. Over the years, when Dad took her out, he would throw little snow balls for her to catch and eat. She came to expect them and wait for him to get the snow (from clean places) for her. These days, the old lady is barely able to get out and do what she has to and back in the house.
"After the last snow storm, I found Dad in the kitchen, feeding Cassie
snow balls he brought inside for her..."