This morning, Facebook tossed me a picture from six years
ago. It was Bob swimming in the exercise pool as part of the vet-sponsored
Biggest Loser contest back when I first adopted him, back when he was
dangerously obese. Bob is not a fan of water. But he DID win the contest! And
has been a healthy weight ever since.
I adopted Bob on March 15, 2011. The Ides of March. Which is
relevant only because that helps me remember the date. No stabbing involved. March
15 is now known as “Gotcha Day” and eminently worthy of celebration.
This Facebook thing reminded me that Bob is now well into
his 7th year (DHA and I reckon he was 1-1/2 years old when I got
him). Last week, after one bag’s worth of denial, I finally purchased a bag of
“Active Longevity” – Science Diet’s signal that your dog has moved into the
next demographic. Great. He’s still a puppy-like goofball. But we all know
where this is heading.
And I realize that Bob and I are the same age. In dog years,
Bob’s in his mid fifties. A little grey. Delighted to sniff around the neighborhood
and meet other dogs walking their people. Then go home for food and sleep.
Occasional explosions of physical exercise (typically chasing the cat, or often
with no discernable reason). Snuggle on the couch, then curl up in bed.
Ya know, except for the fact that I don’t greet my neighbors
by sniffing their butts, that pretty much describes my mid fifties too.
I know where this is heading, Bob. You caught up to me in
age, and now you’re gonna blow by me and just get, well, old. And you’re gonna
show me how to do that. Meanwhile, you are not gonna pay any attention to that
ticking clock. You are gonna wrestle with your little cat sister Penny because
it’s fun for both of you. You will continue to scramble, SCREAM down the ubiquitous
stairs of our house, until you have to take the stairs a little slower.
And I ain’t going quietly into that good night any more than
you are, darlin’
Good Lesson. Thanks Bob