Senility has raised it’s head in our household. Mr. Dog is getting old.
He has lived more than half of his fourteen years in the Yucatan. Lately, he gets confused easily, sometimes he forgets which doors open inward and which lead out, to the detriment of our screens.
His legs sometimes betray him, they clip obstacles which just a year ago he would have leapt gracefully over. There’s an occasional tremor in his rear legs, an instability when going down stairs.
We suspect that Mr. Dog’s vision is failing too. Playing with his favorite squeaky toy, he cannot locate it when it gets too far away.
Sometimes, he seems to forget that he already ate dinner, though that may just be his dog nature manifesting itself.
He sleeps more these days. At 9:30 pm he gets up from his nap and heads for the bedroom. Glancing back at us, asking if we’re coming, he sits in front of the bedroom door waiting to be let in. He is the first to go bed and the last to leave the bedroom. For most of his life his interest in what we are doing kept him up as long as someone was awake and his eagerness to start the day had him not only up at 6am with Husband but sometimes he was already out and about before Husband even opened his eyes.
He is still at his best in the morning. His happy, puppy like behavior and enthusiasm for life is most evident in the morning hours.
Lately, his steel gray coat has gathered a sprinkling of white hairs, and his back sways a little, giving him a little old dog shape. Similar to the potbelly of a thin but elderly man.
Complaining to our Veterinarian that Mr. Dog was slowing down, he observed that “No one lives forever, and who really would want to?”. A fatalistic philosophy, but a realistic one. As long as Mr. Dog is happy and not in pain, we will continue to enjoy our time together, because let’s face it we’re getting old too.