July 23, 2014 at 2:10 p.m.
A look at aging through eyes of a dog (10/18/06)
Back in the Saddle
By By JACK RONALD-
Everyone knows you can't teach an old dog new tricks.
But sometimes we forget that being an old dog is no walk in the park. When you're an old dog, even a walk in the park is no walk in the park.
Shadow, our black Lab, is 13 now. And there are reminders of the passing years every day.
We bought her as a present for daughter Sally on her seventh birthday, and she's been a part of the household ever since, with the exception of a six month period while we were out of the country and she lived with my Uncle Stu and Aunt Martha Sue.
These days - when she's 91 in dog years - her daily routine isn't quite as active as it used to be.
She still responds when I reach for the leash, but once around the block is all she can take, and that doesn't happen at a brisk pace.
Like some other senior citizens, she finds her hearing isn't what it used to be. When I come home for lunch, it takes a few minutes of shouting and clapping my hands before she realizes anyone's in the house. (As a watchdog, she has firmly retired.)
Like some other senior citizens, she finds her joints give her trouble now and then. She's loyal to a fault, though, and will follow us upstairs if someone's going to be on the computer, then back down stairs a few seconds later after e-mail has been checked.
And, like some senior citizens, she finds her vision sometimes fails her.
A few weekends back, taking advantage of some spectacular weather, Connie set about distributing mulch in some flower beds in the lawn. Meanwhile, I monitored the activities of the NFL as I usually do on a Sunday afternoon.
But my game watching was interrupted when the dog suddenly started barking in alarm.
She stood poised at the kitchen door, ready to burst out into the back yard to chase off an intruder. Her tail was rigid. Her nose was pointed accusingly.
And the intruder?
A lump of mulch that an old Labrador's eyes had mistaken for a visiting dog. I tried to explain, as I let her out on her chain, but she had to inspect the mulch personally before taking my word for it.
OK, she seemed to be saying, as I took her back in the house. OK, so it was just a pile of mulch this time, but an old dog has to remain vigilant all the same. Then, as she does so much of the time, she found a comfortable spot, joined me for the NFL action, and promptly fell asleep.[[In-content Ad]]
But sometimes we forget that being an old dog is no walk in the park. When you're an old dog, even a walk in the park is no walk in the park.
Shadow, our black Lab, is 13 now. And there are reminders of the passing years every day.
We bought her as a present for daughter Sally on her seventh birthday, and she's been a part of the household ever since, with the exception of a six month period while we were out of the country and she lived with my Uncle Stu and Aunt Martha Sue.
These days - when she's 91 in dog years - her daily routine isn't quite as active as it used to be.
She still responds when I reach for the leash, but once around the block is all she can take, and that doesn't happen at a brisk pace.
Like some other senior citizens, she finds her hearing isn't what it used to be. When I come home for lunch, it takes a few minutes of shouting and clapping my hands before she realizes anyone's in the house. (As a watchdog, she has firmly retired.)
Like some other senior citizens, she finds her joints give her trouble now and then. She's loyal to a fault, though, and will follow us upstairs if someone's going to be on the computer, then back down stairs a few seconds later after e-mail has been checked.
And, like some senior citizens, she finds her vision sometimes fails her.
A few weekends back, taking advantage of some spectacular weather, Connie set about distributing mulch in some flower beds in the lawn. Meanwhile, I monitored the activities of the NFL as I usually do on a Sunday afternoon.
But my game watching was interrupted when the dog suddenly started barking in alarm.
She stood poised at the kitchen door, ready to burst out into the back yard to chase off an intruder. Her tail was rigid. Her nose was pointed accusingly.
And the intruder?
A lump of mulch that an old Labrador's eyes had mistaken for a visiting dog. I tried to explain, as I let her out on her chain, but she had to inspect the mulch personally before taking my word for it.
OK, she seemed to be saying, as I took her back in the house. OK, so it was just a pile of mulch this time, but an old dog has to remain vigilant all the same. Then, as she does so much of the time, she found a comfortable spot, joined me for the NFL action, and promptly fell asleep.[[In-content Ad]]
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