Dog & People years

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 7^th 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