The end of life is a funny old man, isn’t it? It’s not that we really know when that is. But as your snout grows grayer and your eyes slightly darker, there comes a time when you can no longer be considered “middle-aged” on your own. Your fitness has probably peaked and most of us around “middle age” have a few more squeaks and pains than we’d like to admit.
At almost 60, I like to think of myself – ahem – in the middle of my life, because even though I can now opt for one or more discounts for seniors – thanks Soledad cinema and Goodwill – I feel young. inside my head and heart. I’m still excited about the prospect of a very young dress, a good dinner out or days out with my girlfriends. I love spring flowers and summer buzzing bees. I can’t wait to swim again in any body of water and enjoy the long days of early fall.
But maybe that’s not being “bigger” at all; that’s just enjoying life more than I was when I was young and that’s normal. That’s taking a while to smell the proverbial rose and pausing a little longer on the ladder of life than before. Tomorrow is not something safe, and we all know it. I want to fill today with as many amazing things as I can, while I can.
At the peak of ’93 and my dad is still enjoying his “middle age”. She loves all of the above, except maybe the new dress, and has an offer of new shirts for a triple life of your real life, so we won’t go there. Good company, food, wine, flowers, spring, birds, fresh air, conversation, stimulation and sunshine, all of these are high points in your life, and it is truly a pleasure to see them.
I remember, there are moons, when he was a stressed businessman in the real decades of his true “middle age”. I remember thinking I would probably have to go up in smoke any day with the apparent stress levels I was living with, but no. He has survived my mother and little sister for many years and continues to enjoy a good quality of life, although he is no longer a stressed London traveler and there is certainly something to be said for that.
I travel to his home on the Isle of Man as many times as I can — revoking no guarantee of a maximum tomorrow — but I still anticipate the next visit and the next. That’s how the human brain works, I guess. Full of anticipation, until we are not. Even brazenly, I left an extra box of clothes at my sister’s house full of clothes for all seasons; with the expectation that I will make all the trips planned this year and next.
My sister’s dog, Monty, is up there in the dog world; At 15 he would make it 105 in human years and that’s even older than his grandfather! He often gives us a small panic attack (two blows to date), which also made him a father (Covid). Then he, the dog, becomes disoriented and walks miles around the table, but this is likely because his sight is almost gone and his ear is a little smaller; so periodically it can get a little confusing (I have to love the invention of canine CBD and the help of anxiety throne shirts and the like!).
But he still eats like a champion and enjoys one or two rides down the block and a jog through his garden. He’s also there, blind or not, if you try to give his brother a treat he’s not getting, as he only has two teeth left. Dad’s sight isn’t that great either, but cataract surgery is just around the corner (modern medicine!) And his various layers of clothing can definitely act as throne shirts, when needed.
The bathing habits of old people and dogs can only be described as frequent and unpredictable. Recently we were able to see my sister and I making encouraging noises in Monty’s direction as we pretended to lift our legs in the garden and make happy “let’s pee” noises in her direction. We were trying to get out of the house at that moment, and we didn’t want to go back to a mess, as we had in the past. Fair dos: my sister has new ground. Who needs that after all the cost and installation of the perfect floor?
Monty, however, was more interested in snuggling in her basket or peeking at us from the kitchen door, laughing, I’m sure, as we tried to pretend we were puppies, sniffing out the right patches of grass in the garden and hoping she’d join in. we. He didn’t. I’m sure there are times when old dogs can still laugh out loud at the expense of a human.
I have always said that I will rescue older dogs when the opportunity arises; with all their life experience, they are truly amazing. The same can be said of the elderly. I currently have three older dogs in my pack that I intend to please and spoil whenever possible, until I can no longer. Regardless of any ground accident or cloudy eyes, they have earned that position in our family hierarchy, and I will hold them in the highest esteem, again, until I can no longer.
Join SCAR, Luigi and me at the Puma Winery and Gonzales River Road Tasting Room this Saturday from 12 to 3 p.m. It’s a benefit to our own local animal rescue, South County Animal Rescue. There will be Luigi’s three-pointed sliders, SCAR information, silent auction items, wine tasting, live music, and the signing of the first book of my new book, The Rose Bud & Her Brilliant Adventures. Please join us if you can.
Old men and old dogs will also be welcome.
Window on the World Column | Old Men and Dogs – Salinas Valley Tribune Source link Window on the World Column | Old Men and Dogs – Salinas Valley Tribune