Last time I saw Page Wilson was a couple of years ago, walking Fletcher Lou down in Shockoe. Page couldn't quite place me, and as we slowed to greet each other he was squinting to try to call up my name, a grin already on his face. Fletcher Lou had never met him, but sized him up instantly, and as Page stopped, Fletcher kept going, slid across in front, gazing up at his face, and settled up against him for chin scratches with a big happy sigh. Of course Page complied and, skipping completely over any greeting, launched right into some stories about dogs. Must have been a half hour, leaning into Fletcher, absently ruffling the fur before him, his mind on favorite companions long gone. Page really loved dogs, and they all knew it. We'll all miss him around here.