My dawgs are geriatrics - just like me, I suppose. Today we got up and decided on a Dawg Adventure Day and went out to the country for a walk where they could run around off leash and misbehave themselves without getting into too much trouble.
I can forgive Macey because she is older than dirt in dawg years. I've been carrying her up and down stairs on bad days and putting her into the old lady's Rav when we travel for awhile now. Today Mort couldn't get in under his own power. I cussed him out but then remembered that he is 8 or 9 now and is no longer a young pup. Looks like I will have to harden up a bit and start lugging him around too. He is only a bit over 100 lbs but good grief... I am getting old too!
When I was a kid I coulda grabbed Mort, squaushed him into a ball and spun him on a finger tip - and then sunk him through the basketball hoop like a Harlem Globe Trotter. Today I almost shat my pants on a minor lift, HAR HAR HAR!!! HAR HAR HAR!!! Later on in the patrol a rabbit bolted from the bush. Macey didn't see it (she's almost blind now) and Mort took a few steps but decided he wasn't interested in chasing it. He stayed close to the wife and guarded her and Macey as we walked through the late summer/early fall leaves.
I live an exciting life.
It’s gonna hurt.
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