Hard to imagine that when I brought him home, I wasn't even old enough to go to buy alcohol. I remember bringing him home and thinking that I'd still have this dog when I was old!
Well, here I am, what I thought of then as old
and watching him slow down is killing me.
You probably wouldn't notice it if you didn't know him.
His place on the tile by the big front window is abandoned now, forsaken in favor of the nice soft sofa.
He still gets up on the couch just fine, but he doesn't get off it unless he really has to, and then he takes care of all his needs at once-- potty, drink, snack, visit mom, visit dad, then back on the couch. No more hopping on and off at a whim to chase birds.
He still gets in the back of the Suburban just fine, but you can see him thinking about it, rolling it over in his mind before the jump. I've offered to help but he just gets offended.
He can still put in that burst of speed to beat his brother in a race to a Kong ball, but his baby brother has earned my undying gratitude for holding back a little more every day.
In short, he's growing old and while I can keep him as comfortable as I can and as healthy as I can for as long as I can, there's not a thing I can do to stop him from aging. My mother-in-law lost her Shadow last month, and he was only two and a half years older than my Rocky. Two and a half! I had a long talk with God and said that after the betrayal of taking my Cashdog so early, he at least owes me 14 good years with Rocky.
He just said, "We'll see."
Is anybody else having a hard time dealing with watching your best friend grow older? How are you coping? Share here.