It's A Dogs Life

I’m right around 70 years old, give or take a year or two. It’s really hard to say actually. When my human tells others my age he always says, around 10 or so. That’s 10 in people years. I never quite understand what they mean by that. You know, why is there a difference between how old I say I am and how old my human says. I can’t let stuff like that bother me though, hell, I’m still trying to figure out why I’m eating out of a bowl on the floor and he gets to use all kinds of weird utensils.

I grew up in southern California and spent some time in the northern part of the state too. A few years ago my human and I got in the car and drove for what seemed like forever and ended up in Florida. I don’t quite get what happened but I think I was in a nice size family before he and I left. I don’t remember who was there but I seem to remember a few other folks that would feed me and rub my belly and stuff like that.

Living with this guy hasn’t been bad. I’m well taken care of and he understands all my little quirks. That’s important in a relationship like ours. He takes care of me and I don’t bark, bite, tear through the trash or mess up the house.

I tell you what’s weird, this snow stuff. I don’t know about you but I’ve never seen such a thing. I have spent the better part of the last six months getting the backyard the way I like it, you know, go to the bathroom in this part, lay around and do nothing in that part. Well that’s all blown to hell. I can’t see or smell anything back there. It’s tough on an old girl like me. I can’t just get up and go anywhere; I need some familiarity in my restroom habits.

He does take good care of me though. He’s always talking to me and petting me. I really love to lay behind the lounge chair when he’s in it watching television. Once in a while I forget how long my body is and when he puts the chair back it’ll hurt my stomach. I don’t always say something, it’s nice just to be there with him and I don’t want to cause any trouble.

When we first left California, we lived in Florida for the first year alone. I liked it, he would make sure he came home from work to get me outside and I enjoyed the apartment we were living in. we had nice neighbors and there was a little boy right next door who would play with me when he was gone too long. I used to see all kinds of different animals down there. I remember once, when we were out in the morning, we saw a really weird looking thing come out of the bushes. He called it an armadillo. He was as surprised as I was at seeing it. I wanted to go talk to it but he wouldn’t let me. Something about our safety. I know he wouldn’t do anything that would allow me to get hurt. I kinda like that. I’m sure he knows that if I had the ability I’d protect him in any way possible too.

We had his daughter live with us for a while but she just moved back to her Mother’s house in California a couple days ago. She was nice and I’ll miss her. I’m not real keen on why she left but he was pretty upset about whatever her reason was. They’ve been really close for as long as I can remember. They even kind of look alike.

Things aren’t always so wonderful around here. He usually leaves in the morning and comes home in the late afternoon leaving me alone for hours on end. He leaves the television on for me and that’s nice. For some reason he thinks I like the Weather Channel. I don’t know where he got that. Like I can do anything about it let alone that it in no way effects my life in any way. Well, at least he tries.

There is one thing in this life that totally baffles me and maybe you can help me understand it. In the room where he gets his food there’s this big white box with two doors. Sometimes when he opens it he brings me this treat that’s so cold and creamy, it’s just to die for. He calls it dog ice cream; I call it heaven on earth. I totally understand about the box keeping things cold and all. My question is, how can I get me some more of this wonderful treat that I only get, at most, once a day. Let me know if you can help.

Anyway, I guess I’m at the older end of the age range when it comes to dogs and I know that I have, at best, three to five more years and that’s if I don’t get sick. When I go I know I’ll miss him and he will miss me. I hope he gets another dog after I’m gone; he really likes having me around. It gives him someone to talk too. I’m kinda afraid that he would talk out loud even if I wasn’t here and I’d hate to see him look as nuts as that.