Old Dog

I am an old dog. Enough about new tricks and all that. Growing old has been tough with creaking joints, failing eyesight, and the seemingly endless stream of new dogs in my house. Are they trying to replace me already? Age is tough. How old am I you ask? Well, I am soon going to be 87 years old. In human years that is 16. Speaking of humans, why do they always try to make me older then I am? I hear "Wow, 16 ... that is 112 dog years". Please, why do they want to make me older then I already am? I mean, isn't 87 enough? I have seen a lot, and age does come with its perks of course, like sleeping on the bedroom floor each night instead of outside. That and the human food that my owners slip to me when they believe the other is not watching. It is funny, I can sneak a bite or two from Mom, and then a few minutes later hit up Dad for a few more treats. They are none the wiser, and I am not saying anything. I really like to follow the little red head around when he had food, often with good results. But enough rambling for now, I am old and tired. I don't see well, I move slowly, and I sleep a lot. I AM 87!

Oh, and I know one thing. My humans hold a very special place for me in their hearts. They joke about my age and health, but that is only to cushion the thought of the inevitable. I will miss them too of course, but I am looking forward to playing with my best friend Kit again.

Bear