Today I turned 13, a record age for one of my parent’s dogs, even before they were married. I asked Foley about breaking her longevity record, and she came into my dreams and told me it was better . I was old and living with Mommy than an angel and living with her. If I did, she would have to add another bedroom to the house. I guess I owe my life to the fact that Foley doesn’t want to pull a permit.
My parents are stunned; I lived this long. When I came to them, I was a scrawny puppy dog who needed to grow into her ears. I have never actually mastered potty training. I have a bladder that is the size of a pea. How long can a pea hold pee? That time has grown longer as I have aged, but still, pee happens. I have lived so loved I have graduated from untrainable to incontinent.
I have rarely gone a month without a day of digestion issues. It always follows the same script. I refuse my morning treat. Then I don’t eat breakfast or any food until supper time. While my parents are eating, they coax me into taking a bit of food. A few moments later, I emit a poop that looks like something Hieronymus Bosch would stick into the corner of a painting created in a particularly disturbing moment. Once done, I return to my parents’ dinner table, to get more food. Ironically, they then stop eating to take care of the stinking pile in the living room. After that, I am good to go, even if my parents have lost the appetite I gained. I guess living with me has been a bit of a trial at times. But I am very well loved too, thanks to understanding parents.
There have been a few times over the years that I didn’t snap out of it, and the tummy issues last a number of days. My parents used to take me to the vet when this happened. Now they ride it out like it is a terrible scene in a beloved movie, except they can’t fast forward through me. None of the normal techniques, like chicken and rice, worked. I need to eat the same food until I straighten out. Each time it happens, my parents wonder if this will be the time that I don’t recover. But I am resilient. I don’t know what will finally bring me to the Bridge, but I don’t think it will be my tummy. I am like an old car that requires you to nurse the brakes and finally goes to the junkyard because of a transmission issue.
I can hardly believe that I have lived longer with River Song than with Foley. I was introduced to the world as a puppy by Foley on Doggyspace. I wanted to join the site, but Foley balked. She said I needed to be housebroken first. Thankfully, she got tired of carrying the burden of blog writing herself and introduced me to social media, where I have chronicled most of my life.
I was always Foley’s sidekick, and that was fine with me. She did all the heavy lifting while I stayed in the back and was the cute one, Paul, to her John. But then Foley left to take a job at Rainbow Bridge and broke up the band. I had a couple of weeks as a lonely dog, then along came Ringo.
I am glad River Song became my sister. But, we have a different relationship. Foley was always top dog. I was never comfortable with the role. River wanted it, and we still tussle over who is top dog, but River and I have found equal ground. River is a good snuggle partner, and fun to walk with. She enjoys a good sniff more than Foley did. Most of all, she healed my parents’ hearts quicker than I could have done alone. For that reason, I forgive her a lot.
I don’t feel 13, and I don’t look it either. Everyone still thinks I am a puppy. They don’t see my missing teeth or feel my stiff arthritic bones. Outside of that,I still feel like a youngster inside. I have been blessed to be with you for 13 years, and I hope I have many more.