Here I am in all my majesty. Wasn’t I absolutely gorgeous? How anyone could have abandoned me, I have no idea. But abandoned I was. You all know my story so I won’t go into detail but let’s just say I had a bit of a bad time for a while and then got rescued by Michael and he found me my family. My story ended well.
It is hard to believe how svelte I was back in the good old days. I could eat biscuits for hours and not put on an ounce. That was my summer hairdo; I can’t wear that kind of haircut here for too long because we don’t have many warm months in Telluride. In the top photo I’m about three and below I am nine….I ooze maturity in this photo don’t I? Personally, and I always admit to my vanity, I doubt there is a prettier little black dog in all of Telluride.
I’ve been thinking about age a lot recently. How could I not? I’m being bombarded daily with the energy level of a nine month old puppy…good old Don Juan. He bounces around and one minute he’s here and one minute he’s there. He can jump over a snowbank quicker than I can shake my head. Those days are far behind me. It wasn’t until Don moved in that it struck me that my pace has really slowed down. Yes, I love to go for walks and yes, I love to go for a cross country ski but I run out of steam long before a young pup. It is awful having it thrust in my face on a daily basis. Like owner, I am reasonably content to look a certain age but feel like a teenager inside, note the word reasonably. Of course I go to be groomed and pampered at any dog spa I can get into because I try to keep up appearances. Luckily owner doesn’t have daughters to compare herself to on a daily basis….then there would be even more creams and magic potions in the glass torture room. Thank God I don’t have to go through the humiliation of losing my fur like people do; I don’t know that I could bear it.
There are benefits to getting older though. Owner spends long hours brushing my fur and making me gorgeous. She never bothered when I was little because I wouldn’t sit still long enough. Another bonus is that when I head into town on the River Trail I don’t need a leash. I’m allowed to meander as I please sniffing here, sniffing there. Young upstarts like Don can’t do that because they are stupid and run away. Let’s forget about me making a mad dash across the river the other day as I chased a small black furry object scurrying like mad. Don has been a bad influence on me I guess because for a moment I thought I was young! Iced paws and an icy chest aren’t fun for old dogs; but, I recuperated quickly and my foray across the river led me to have very pleasant dreams that evening. Young Don gets put in a crate when everyone goes out. I have the house and furniture to do with as I wish. I like to sit myself down in front of his jail cell and flaunt my freedom. I run down the hall and have a very loud drink and return to taunt Don with water droplets shimmering on my lips. This drives him insane. When you are young you don’t have the smarts to play practical jokes like this.
One of the nice things about being older is that you realise you should take time to enjoy the moment, savour the flavour. For example, when I come upon a beautifully decorated tree trunk in the forest I have a good sniff and take in how pretty it looks set against the snow. Don is so young that he simply pees on it and takes off never appreciating the fact that someone went to a lot of trouble to create whimsy. Wandering by a potential forest animal’s domicile, I don’t run in and send my fur flying every which way…no I peer in quietly wondering who lives here each evening when I’m sleeping at the end of the bed in a warm room. Not Don…..he could care less about anyone other than himself. I guess that is the best part about growing older, when we do it selflessly we age gracefully. That’s what I am now, I”m graceful.
Anyway, in my opinion I am far superior to little Don. That said I think I shall go take my rightful spot in front of the little fireplace. My old bones need warming and I’m not embarrassed to let everyone know. I’ve put in my time as a young pup and now I shall reap the rewards of my esteemed age. Don should venerate me as the Chinese venerate their old. Hey wait a minute…I have Chinese heritage. I am Chowchow with the tongue to prove it so it makes sense that I should take such a dignified and intelligent approach to my creaking bones and cataract clouded eyes. See ya later.