I like old dogs. I like old things in general, old people, old houses, old boats, but especially old dogs. They have a comfortable ease to them and they’ve attained a certain gentleness. They take life patiently and they find some enjoyment in each and every day.
With our first three dogs (our fourth one is still only weeks old) I became more in tune with each one over time, and they, I think, with me. They were fine as puppies, cute and playful, but as each one aged my appreciation for him grew.
Rusty was the most gentle dog I have ever seen. He acted a bit like an old dog from the moment we brought him home from the shelter in Virginia. He had been sick for some time and had bad joins from the get-go. Although he recovered somewhat, he was never a rambunctious young dog. But he enjoyed life at his own tempo and was a very content, self-sufficient, stay-at-home dog. He seemed to rely more on my care as he became frail at the end and maybe that helped us become a bit closer. I was sad to see him go and I miss him.
Ryan, while not the most gentle dog, was the best pal in the history of pals. As Rusty’s health deteriorated, Ryan provided him with companionship on Rusty’s terms and at Rusty’s pace. After Rusty died, Ryan’s goal was to become friends with every dog, every person, and every animal in the whole world. Mr. Leisure, particularly during the last couple years of his life, grew more and more fond of long, slow, pleasant walks with me. By the end, I swear he’d have walked me to Miami if I let him. I was sad to see him go and I miss him.
Robert, although only three years old now, is starting to flow along the same path. Over the months our tempos have more closely aligned. Now, with the arrival of the puppy, Rob has sought me out even more, at times. I’m his safe, secure home port during the storm. I’m also the one who fills the void when the puppy steals everyone’s attention with his clumsiness and his antics.
Puppies are cute, but cute doesn’t last forever and when the cuteness fades, I’ll be there.