The Benefits of Age

Pretty handsome
for 95

They say age is only a number. That being said, I’m 95 years old, darn it, and with age I think I’ve earned the right to take some liberties. If I want to do something that I would have gotten yelled at when I was younger, then I’m going to do it and if I want to be quirkier than usual, well that’s my prerogative. The way I see it, I’ve earned the right to do what I want the way I want.

So behold, the promises of a 95-year-old man: 

Manners invented by the humans will no longer apply:

• I will circle the dinner table like a shark
• I will raise my snout at the dinner table to see if any dishes are a bit too close to the edge (and try to sneak a taste)
• I will lick Pa’s elbow while he’s eating
  

Patrolling for food and licking an elbow

Food demands will always be met:

• I will expect my dinners to be spiked with a variety of vegetables including broccoli, green beans, sweet potatoes, and carrots
• I will wipe my snout on any soft surface I want after eating
• I will get a big cookie after simply barking at the big cookie box 

Snout wiping after a tasty meal

Exercise routines are based on my schedule and interest level:

• I will decide when walks happen as well as how long they last (if I only want to go to the end of the block then that’s how far I’ll go)
• I will occasionally launch into a full gallop just to scare my humans

Sleeping is done on my terms:

• I will demand that someone hoist my back end up onto the couch for me
• I will demand that someone sleep at least part of the night with me in the living room rather than the whole night in the bedroom
• I will require someone to make sure that all my feet are accounted for and pointing in the right direction when I lay down (and rearrange them if they aren’t)
• I will take up as much of the couch as I want

Waiting for a boost and spreading out

Annoyances will be dealt with swiftly:

• I will reap the benefits of selective hearing loss
• I will get up and walk away in a huff when Sister starts to pluck tufts of loose fur off of me

My time, my hobbies:

• I will physically block doorways without a second thought
• I will bark for 10 minutes straight at imaginary objects
• I will give people the evil eye when they refuse to go to work
• I will rip the stuffing out of any toy I want
• I will steal a broken toy from atop the table while Pa’s watching
• I will rip all wrapping paper and some boxes
• I will bark hysterically at little dogs wearing pink polka-dotted dresses when normally I would ignore them
  

Why aren't you at work?

Restroom etiquette: 

• I will do my business in the backyard on the new sod rather than in my designated business spot

Posing with the new sod

Surgery and Recovery

I’m back and oh boy has it been a whirlwind of a week. 

Monday, December 28: Surgery Day. 

The morning started poorly with me not getting my breakfast and went downhill from there. Within hours I was knocked unconscious and underwent three separate procedures: a skintag removal from my chin, the removal of a growth from the inside of my lower left eyelid, and finally the correction of a hematoma right ear. 

The surgeries, apparently, went smoothly. The growth from inside my eye was expertly removed with no fur loss and a barely visible stitch (a biopsy of it came back benign) as was the skintag. My ear, however, was a bit more of a procedure. The fur had to be shaved and the process of correcting a hematoma is to stitch a piece of X-ray film over the length of the ear. 

But despite the success, I awoke in a cramp metal cage in a room full of barking dogs (I could smell cats in the vicinity), wearing the Cone of Shame. Annoyed, uncomfortable, and unable to resist a commotion, I barked so much throughout the night that by morning I was horse. 

Tuesday, December 29: 

Finally Home

After a hospital breakfast, I was released from the vet’s office to the arms of my family. I was stiff, out of sorts, instructed to wear the Cone of Shame for at least a week, and more than a bit horrified that the technician was able to effortlessly picked me up and load me into the back of the car.

Safe at home, I leapt out of the car and immediately snagged my cone on the side of the house. I tried to do my business and my cone kept scraping against the fence. Then my cone and I got caught between the side door and the side railing. Finally inside the house, I made a bee line for my water dish, knocking dining room chairs out of the way as went. 

That night, when Pa and Ma went to bed, I started to cry and yip using a voice still horse from the previous night of barking. I was inconsolable. I couldn’t see my family with my vision impacted by the Cone of Shame and between the Cone of Shame and my pain meds wearing off, I couldn’t get comfortable either. Eventually, Ma took me into the living room and slept there with me. Her curled up on the couch and me on the floor, I could keep an eye on her and felt calm enough to finally fall asleep (though I cried a little throughout the night). 

Wednesday, December 30: 

Snoozing on the Couch

The next morning, I woke up still a bit horse and a bit achy. Although Sister was only working a half day, I, her irreplaceable Administrative Assistant, called in sick and remained in the living room with Ma who was off (with Ma’s help I even managed to get up onto the couch). After a lot of naps and a round of medication, I woke up feeling much better and stopped in at the office to make sure everything was all right. Sister commented, while I wagged my tail and shoved my head and cone into her lap for an ear scratch, that I seemed much more like myself. 

How Can I Rip This?

Throughout the day I continued to improve. My voice started to return, I started using my cone as a weapon (hitting the back of my family’s knees with it and moving it ever so slightly to trip them when they tried stepping over me), and began to show interest in my toys (while I was gone, Sister sewed them all up). However, I was also becoming increasingly frustrated by having to wear the Cone of Shame all day every day. Getting around in the house was torture: Doorways were too small, the arms of chairs kept getting stuck in my cone when I passed by, and making turns in hallways lead to me being essentially suction cupped to the wall. I couldn’t drool all over my family, the floor, and the walls because of the giant splash guard of a cone I was wearing and, worst of all, I discovered that I couldn’t actually play with all the toys Sister sewed up for me since I couldn’t grip them with my paws to steady them while I rip them to shreds (and what, may I ask, is the point of toys if you can’t rip them to shreds?). 

Given how fitful the previous night had been, Pa decided to preemptively spend the night with me in the living room. We settled down, Pa on the couch and me on the floor, and we both fell asleep quickly. After a quick nap, I woke up and decided that it was time to go to bed, so I got up and stalked off into the bedroom. With a sigh, I threw myself down on my pillow and went to sleep. About an hour later, Pa woke up to find me gone. Peeved, and a bit stiff from sleeping on the couch, Pa limped back to bed.

Thursday, December 31: 

Thursday saw a drastic change in my mood when, once Sister got off from work, my entire family headed out east for the long weekend. Although I still had to wear my cone, the more open layout of the house meant maneuvering through it was easier on me (though it should be noted that I did hook the cone on the kitchen cabinet door and knocked three ornaments off the Christmas tree within five minutes of being there). Also, I discovered that my only surviving mini-Mecki toy was long enough for me to grasp with my paws outside of the cone while ripping the ears and mouth off with gusto inside of it. Because I had so many deep-seated frustrations, I was allowed to rip all I wanted, however, I got overexcited and started scratching at the cone so Sister took the mini-Mecki away and rubbed my head until I calmed down. 

I slept in the bedroom that night. 

Friday, January 1: Happy New Year! 

Blocking Pa's View

By Friday, I felt so much better that I even started to revert to my troublesome nature. First, I broke my cone in an epic struggle trying to get in the side door (my family taped it back together). Next, I purposely decided to obstruct Pa’s view of the television by sitting between him and the screen. That was a lot of fun. 

Saturday, January 2: 

Storage

On Saturday, I started using my cone as a pocket. I still hated it, but at least was proving to be a little bit useful. 

Sunday, January 3: 

My trouble spree continued. I stole Sister’s slipper right off her foot and I broke my cone once again in epic battle with the side door (once again my family taped it back together). Later in the day, Pa, Ma, and Sister let me play with my Marvin the Martian toy sans cone, but under extreme supervision. Within ten minutes I had killed Marvin—ripped his head from his body and extracted the squeaker—and, feeling triumphant, started rubbing my snout on the floor. All of a sudden, Ma and Sister swooped in (and I mean swooped...I have no idea where they came from) and threw my cone back on my neck preventing further snout rubbing. Fun being over, I curled up on my pillow and took a nap.