Letting Go, or ____ Happens

From time to time I’ve referred to the infirmities of old age with humor and some degree of delicacy, but in this instance delicacy may not be an option. As most of you know, the aging process for any man or beast is rarely attractive, but with luck, it can at least be somewhat dignified. I am afraid, dear reader, that for yours truly, that metaphorical ship has sailed.

Let me explain. My spine is slowly degenerating, causing my hindquarters great instability and lack of control. Those once powerful and elegant limbs are now taking on the appearance of withered and useless little twigs. With this change has come a further erosion of control in my caboose…the all-important sphincter muscles. While I exert as much manly will as I can muster, there are natural events that are beyond my control at this stage of my life.  Yesterday offered proof, several times, of these failings.

I do wear a man garment (read diaper) at night, lest there be a mishap, and in the morning Dad removes it before taking us out for our walk. The diaper is then put aside until bedtime when it is again donned. Apparently one tidy little nugget had been captured and stored in the garment’s pocket that morning because it rolled out onto the bed in the evening. Mom was not thrilled.

The next morning when Mom took us for our walk, with me tucked under her arm like a football and Lizzie trotting along underneath, I again experienced sphincter failure, and released a barrage of fecal bullets upon Lizzie’s head. Because they are firm and small, there is a ricochet effect when they strike an object, viz. Lizzie’s pea-sized head. I am sure there were people amazed by the spectacle, wondering what new meteorological phenomenon was occurring.

And so, dear reader, while this isn’t earth-shaking news it certainly figures heavily in my narrowly circumscribed world. I hope I’ve offended no one in the telling of this because I only wished to inform you of my downhill progression. Be of good cheer though, since I have no pain, have great energy, and still love food more than anything on earth (forgive me Mom and Dad…not Lizzard though).

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

In the wild, sans diaper, enjoying a manly stroll through the woods this summer.

There’s No Place Like Home, There’s No Place Like Home

This venerable old pug is hanging up his rucksack, lining up his meds, fluffing up his bed, and resting his dogs…so to speak. My wandering is over for some time, and while I had an action-packed summer it is time to relax in my new digs and resume my “master of the house” role.

With the addition of two more dogs to our pack, I don’t mind admitting that I’m exhausted…both mentally and physically. Daphne, the Frenchie, would try the patience of a saint and with her indefatigable energy and aggression, I was tried sorely on a daily basis. She was territorial, quarrelsome, and fast. In my youth perhaps I could have provided her a worthy opponent, but at my age and with my infirmities I had neither the ability nor interest. Cecily was as insipid and obsequious as Lizzie, so you can only imagine how those two huddled and cuddled together. Lizzie is still suffering the pangs of separation. Oh boo hoo, Lizzie. Cry me a river.

So, our summer was of a different tone and tenor this year, but the good news is that no one suffered any health issues (except for my ongoing eye treatments).

Our new home involves an upstairs bedroom, where Lizzie and I must be carried each evening for bed (if not, I set up a most fearful and annoying barking) because the stairs are open and way too steep for either of us to navigate. We love having the additional bedroom/office because now we can replicate those blissful days with Grandpa spent sleeping in little beds under his desk.

Because Mom has been sick since we returned, we’ve had some wonderful days spent caring for her at home; for us that translates into couch time on and under blankets with our patient.

While this isn’t the most newsworthy blog, at least you have been brought up to date with our whereabouts and activities. I will next regale you with more stories from our life in Gotham.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Day of departure...I ruined Grandma's photo op...but I think I'm pretty cute

The acceptable version

Looks innocent, doesn't she? You would be fooled if you believe that.