Today our dog, fourteen years old, snapped at a kid at the park who dared to pet him. The other day he snapped at the vet who was only, after all, attempting to remove some blood from his body.
I don’t want to talk out of school, but let’s just say his housebroken habits have themselves broken down of late.
When I commented to the vet that the old guy was “getting up there,” the vet responded with a snort, “He’s not getting anywhere. He’s already there.” Dr. Wohlfeiler proceeded to eliminate several of his usual vaccinations. After fourteen consecutive shots, he has enough immunity to last him.
He’s still our dear dog, of course, but he’s almost a new dog, in some respects. I’m resolved to keep the kids at the park away from him…but most of his problems, so far, are benign. He just requires a little more help and a little more patience on our part.
I don’t want to get too sappy, but when I boost him into the car or wait patiently for him to climb the steps (which he can still do, barely) or watch him trying so hard to listen at the door to see if someone’s home (his hearing’s shot), I feel honored and lucky to be the young(ish) person on hand to assist him in his declining years.