A tale of eventuality: Miles is getting old

It’s one of those things I knew would happen. It’s just that even though you know, you secretly hope that it does not come to fruition. Such is the case with Miles the super-dog. It’s apparent now that he’s reached old age, there’s really not much – if any – question about it. The shocking thing about it is the swiftness with which it arrived. It really seems that it’s like one day he was peeing in fish buckets, and the next he’s gimp and deaf.

And it was almost like that. Except, you know, that it was a process spread out over six months or so, maybe a little longer. When we got the puppies, he was whooping them around. He was playful with them, would beat them into the water and through it as well, and couldn’t wait to hump the sh!t out of them. Yeah. He had done that al lot. He’s 12-½ right now, he’s been fixed for the last 12 years, yet for whatever reason, he’s the humping-est dog I’ve ever met. Our puppies are not fixed. They hump less than Miles. COMBINED.

Part of me wonders, because of the timing: were the arrival of the puppies the beginning of his downfall? Or was it just coincidental timing? I knew he couldn’t go on forever like a dog out of hell, but I wanted him to nonetheless.

Just this week, we got home from a short trip to the beach with the dogs (which we detoured to the Toyo Dealership) and he was acting a little hurt. Well heck, if Miles is acting hurt, it hurts. Miles is a trooper so I know he was in pain. Not sure what it was. He carried his head low as though he was ashamed of himself like Britney Spears should be on a daily basis, and if you touched his left side he winced. Two days of that, and there’s nothing really I could do except look on and pout about my ol’ buddy getting old.

He seems to be over it now – whatever “it” was – but still, he’s not as young as he used to be. Of course not literally, but also not figuratively either, the poor guy. I wonder if he’s going to be a porch dog inside of a year, it seems like that’s what we’re headed for.

Hey, if I’m finally laid up on the porch when I’m 91? I’d say I was doing pretty good. We all should hope to do as well as good ol’ Miles has been doing. It’s just that I wanted to keep pretending that he was magic or something.

Poo.