Sometimes I reflect on Stella’s age. Shes’ eleven. At times though it’s apparent she’s a senior. Her overall energy level is a little lower (thank dog!). I think she’s more content to watch the world go by from her throne, the deck. This rarely saddens me. Dogs grow up, age, get old, and die as we watch their life unfold. It’s life. I don’t look forward to her getting old, infirm, and possibly grumpy. Yet any sadness, not-look-forward-to-it-ness, denial, any negative feelings I may have will not change by one iota the fact, the process, of her aging. I’m very grateful to have had her. I gained purpose at a time when I was looking for purpose. She’s been so good for me and good to me, I hope to have returned a tiny bit of the favour.
previouslytexan 