Reflections on picking up the cremains of the fourth dog we've lost in the past year

This was the little dog who came off the plane from Iowa 16 years ago, with his tiny sister Tinka, almost to the day. Upon arrival he was the timid one. Tinka, who we lost 11 years ago, was the adventurous one, climbing out of the crate and peeing on the rug in the air frieght ofice while he crouched in the back of the crate and had to be pulled out for inspection. As a puppy, Ozu was headstrong, quick to growl at you if you displeased him. We were equally quick to squash that behavior, and he became the most gentle of all the Pekingese we've had. He loved to ride in the stroller, sit with you on the sofa, and bark for no reason - usually early in the morning. At 16 he had lost an eye, was mostly blind in the remaining one, and was totally deaf, but he still loved to have his ears rubbed, right up to the last day. Such a small bag of white powder. Where did all that energy go, energy once used to chase a ball or hump his teddy bear? What about the energy to rub his face on the wall, leaving a streak 10" up from the floor or against the baseboards? Should I paint them, once again, now, or leave them for a while in rememberence?