So I know I’m approaching a goodly age for my breed, and I know that there are bits of me that don’t work as well as they might, but there are some really great things about being old.
For example my mum fusses around me – making sure my bed is just so, that I can reach my bowls without too much neck movement, that the new house we moved to has no inconvenient steps for me and of course that there is a regular supply of treats.
Other humans stop and stroke me in the street – confident that I couldn’t be bothered to move too suddenly, still less put my admittedly rather wet nose, where it wasn’t wanted. They coo and oo over my soft ears (and they get a satisfying rub) and make way for me as though I were the queen’s corgi – keeping the more bouncy dogs they have under considerate control.
The other humans mum has come into me (my slaves, if you will) are also carefully interviewed and nose picked by me. There is a delightful older human lady who comes on Mondays and is always so understanding (she is a bit younger than me but not much, so she knows what it’s like) and then there is the man human whose house I go to on Thursdays and Fridays. He spends a lot of time tapping on some strange folding device on his knee all day – but always stops to take me for a sunny stroll and somehow has a supply of the same treats mum gets me. Clever that one. The kennels days are ok too as there are lots of rapt students who just come and sit and stroke me, squabbling over who gets to sit near my bed. I think mum has left specific instructions for these ‘minions’ not to move me and she always appears herself, right on time, for a lunch stroll on campus. I must say – I have got her well trained.
In general the best thing about being old is that I get to spend 90% of my time sleeping and the other 10% eating or wandering and sniffing, with treats. This is of course utopia, and what us pet dogs work towards all our lives – we’ve earned it! I remember my working days on the track clearly and all the races I ran for my humans then. Nowadays, an occasional gentle brush, strolls around selected soft grounded parks, no being bounced or shoved about by youngsters (unless I start it of course!) and a warm fire to stretch out next to in winter – is all I want.
I take life at the speed I see fit and my human enables this with love and patience. I do still have to go on walks though and although I have tried to hint that really that isn’t required thank you – there is something unpopular with my toileting in the house that I don’t understand – which means this line has yet to be successfully crossed. Who can help a little less bowel control at 94 and a half anyway?!
The next challenge will be convincing mum that I can’t actually jump in and out of the car anymore and although I know I get treats for doing it, the car is lined up on slopes, mum lines me up for a straight run and we get to some very interesting smelling places this way, I frankly can’t be bothered anymore and my old bones protest. I hear there are ramps you can get your humans to buy, so if I have to leave subtle magazine articles open at the right page for a while, that’s what I’ll do.
Yes there are a lot of advantages to my age and although I’m sure I’m a little greyer around the face than I was, and the gravy stains around my face do persist, I wouldn’t swap to being a pup again.
No sir! Humans expect so much of you at that age!
Snoozy Suzie. xxx