Spencer is in decline.  I have known this, intellectually, for some time, what with the two surgeries last year and the enlarged heart, but now I can’t avoid seeing him slowing down, little by little, day by day.  His hearing is reduced to a narrow band of sound frequencies (which seems to include my voice, since he still responds when it suits him).  He gets confused about where I am in the house, sitting patiently outside the wrong closed door in his nearly silent world.  He stumbled on the stairs the other day.  The nose still seems to work just fine as he waits expectantly for the drip or crumb or the special treat from whatever I’m preparing in the kitchen.  I’m not sure about his vision.  He could be nearly blind and still find his way around the home where he has lived most of his life.  True, he…