My yellow lab, Pete, turns 16 years old, today. For the last 3-4 years, we have not expected him to make it through the year—and, sometimes, the week. Through it all, he is still here. He seems, at times, like he has a bit of doggy dementia. He gets outside and sometimes for gets how to get up the stairs of the deck. He sometimes struggles to move his back legs and has trouble walking on the hardwood floor. And, yes, he’ll often poop where he lay and has stained the family room carpet. He is an old dog—very old for a Labrador retriever. Despite his age, he is still full of love. He is still a very happy dog. He can’t show it in his hyperactivity, but he shows it in his eyes and doggy smile. He has been with me through my final years of singlehood, my wife and me though courtship, marriage, and the birth of our two kids. We have a cat because he was distraught at the loss of our first cat, Gus. Our second lab—the puppy we got because we didn’t expect Pete to last the summer—is now almost 2 years old. Pet doesn’t do much anymore. He’s old. But he doesn’t have to do much. He has given us years of play and companionship. Now he can only give what dogs give throughout their lives—love. Sixteen years of unconditional love. There is no greater gift that a life can give.
I wake early every morning and take the dogs out to do their “business”. I never quite expect Pete to be alive. Every morning—at least for now—he continues to greet me with a smile and love. It is a start of another great day.
Carpe momento!