Getting old ain’t for sissies!
By Panda
Hi friends, while I love all my kind, today’s article is for those with a few extra dog years under the belt. My name’s Panda and I’m a fearless, ferocious formidable female, Blue Heeler cattle dog from Texas. Okay, I ain’t purebred, because that’s SO boring, but my reputation is FIERCE. Well, used to be. A few years back, I could run, jump six feet off the ground to snatch a frisbee out of the sky, and growl down anyone who threatened my pack. Now, at 14 1/2, things have slowed down. Mainly me, but the whole world feels different and confusing. Now, don’t ask me my age in dog years, because just like my human Mom, I don’t do math — so I got no idea how many freakin’ years that is! (Sorry for the language, but today I was constipated and so am a bit on the grumpy side.) Anyhoo , last summer, Mom told Joshua, my ‘boy’ — although he lives in a lot of different places now and I don’t get to see him very often —that he should come home to see me. Sure, I was sick and Mom and Dad were worried. You can’t pull nothing over me, but it wasn’t time to say good-bye yet. Great seeing the boy though! I’d know his smell anywhere!
What was wrong with me, you ask? That’s mighty kind of ya. Well, canines and humans are the same . As we age, stuff on the inside (and outside) don’t work so well. First it was severe arthritis (got a great recommendation for that . Email if ya want more info), my liver, lungs, well all kinds of stuff. But you know what, I’m okay. I can walk, just not as much. I’m still coughing, but my parents take care of me the best they can. Here’s some senior advice: get your joy where ya can. Food is the best! I still LOVE food. Any food. I’m a little on the pudgy side (I heard my doc say it —so stinkin’ rude!), but my humans are smart. Mom said: “there’s no reason to put her on a diet at this point. Let her enjoy what she wants.” Hey dogs, are ya jealous? I have cousins (not pups), who are on a boring and bland kibble diet because of all their dog years. Who needs that poop? I get chicken, hamburgers, vegetables, fish, did I mention hamburgers? I eat my dinner and use my best acting moves to snag table food too. Then, after my meds —which I get in MORE FOOD— I enjoy a little rub on my fat, full belly and pass out in my special throne bed. The box the bed came in said it was for arthritis. I can’t read, but the parrot I share the house with — and HATE more than anythin’ can read (and TALK) and she told me. Probably just to mess with my mind, but I don’t care. My special bed’s amazing and the stupid bird has to stay in a cage. HA! Hey, I hope you don’t have parrots in your house! They are horrible, nasty, noisy creatures. ANYWAY, got off topic — back to my BED. All my favorite toys I used to destroy, are lined up like friends. It makes my humans happy to make my bed up nice, so I let ’em. Sometimes, I even get a little energy after dinner and play with the tennis ball for a few minutes. Not too long though. Everything’s harder these days. I feel like I can jump, but when I do — holey moley, it hurts! There’s something wrong with my eyes too. Everything’s fuzzy. It’s weird. And the ears don’t work so great neither. Sometimes I feel (and smell) Mom and Dad — but I get upset and bark, because they play some sort of mean hiding game. I can’t see or hear them. It’s scary. My NOSE though. Wow! Super sniffer, I tell you what! It saves me. I know when my pack’s near and it calms me down. When they pet me and talk (I can’t hear the words anymore, but the tone, I know is nice), my dog years don’t bother me so much. So, fellow old guys and gals, don’t worry. We have to appreciate the joys we have left until it’s time to…well, let’s not talk about that. If any of ya’ll want to write me or take advantage of my mature Texas wisdom, I’d love to hear from ya. There are quite a few young dogs in my neighborhood, who whisper questions in my floppy ears. I help when I can. And remember this, getting old’s not for sissies…
