In dog years, that’s…really old. Like about 100 in dog years.
She’s been totally deaf for the last two of them, and in the last few months, her vision has declined to the point where she cannot see me waving my hand in front of her face unless I’m less than a couple feet away. She’s stiff; especially in the mornings, and I’ve had to eliminate one of her twice daily walks. She rarely sleeps on the bed anymore, but can still surprise me and can still get up there.
But she still eats good, sleeps good, and her plumbing is in good shape. In her younger days, she was a wild thing; mad for the agility course, and faster than most in competition. Now, she trails behind me most days, but every once in a while, she’ll have a real good day and drag me around on the leash like a puppy. As a young dog, she’d pester me to practice obedience–I’ve never had a dog that loved obedience and agility training so much. Together, we learned a lot and became a great team.
She wears her years well. There is no grey on her muzzle, and her coat is still stunning. These days, her favorite thing (her idea of a joke, really), is to stand between me and the kitchen cupboards while I’m preparing food. She likes to stand ON my feet.
And she laughs when I squeeze her with my knees into the cupboards.
There still some life in the old girl.