Second half of life lessons from a puppy’s perspective

 

 

“Getting older is not for sissies,” is an oft quoted idiom by those engaged in the daily process of living life after 55+. The truth is much remains for us to learn about who I am, who God is in my life, and what the “second half” of life is supposed to look like.

 

Where I find answers to life’s questions

I draw my answers to these questions from life experience, the shared knowledge and understanding of respected others, my Bible LPS, and my dog.

 

On the life experience side for example, I wonder what was I thinking to acquire a dog at this stage in my life? He’s not really even a dog yet. He’s a six months old preadolescent puppy. I wonder what GAGE thinks about leaving Texas ranch country for city life in western Washington? And I wonder why is it (most) people are attracted to dogs in the first place (see A Dog Named GAGE, one of my most popular blogs in 2017)? So what is my newly acquired “wonder dog” is teaching me about life?

 

For starters, what’s not to love?

Young women are especially vulnerable: “What a cute dog,” they smile. “He’s so precious; may I pet him, he’s so adorable;”

and small children love him: “Mommy, it’s a dog! can I pet it?”

and men of any age who own (or once upon a time owned ) a dog say: “look at those feet, he’s going to be a big one; what is he? a Labradoodle service dog? really? if I ever get another one I want a hunting dog;” (all the while rubbing his face and ears, before asking) “Is petting him okay?”

 

Why this dog? Why any dog?

At this writing, GAGE is in his 27th week. In doggy days these are “the terrible 2’s.” Up to now he’s been doing all the usual cute puppy things. He sits / goes down on all fours / shakes my hand perfectly (southpaw style) / and catches the ball most of the time, especially if treats are the end game. The fact is, like a lot of us, GAGE lives in the moment, and forgets just as quickly. So repetitiveness is required to develop a relationship that works.

 

The leash hangs loose on his collar 24/7 (it’s the only sure way I can catch him a) when he’s playing, or b) when I’m not). And yes, he’s had his first ‘Time Out!”

 

He’s been making points learning to go outside before doing what has to be done. Timing is everything, right? Then, just when I think we’re good, regression sets in. (Put carpet cleaning in my budget.) It’s at times like these, I remember, dogs, like people, just need and want to love and be loved unconditionally.

 

(I know, I’m just a puppy, but if you slowly rub my belly and feet ~ I’m yours, And you may feed me anytime. All the time, in fact. If you’re in the kitchen, it’s where I want to be. I’ll lay prostrate on your feet there so you won’t ever have to leave this magic place again!)

 

I’m learning every time we visit the vet, GAGE comes away feeling great. I feel lighter. He’s like a car payment. But he doesn’t let this and more puppy training ahead worry him at all. Because my master always provides.

 

Traveling with WonderDog

GAGE and I arrive at the airport ready to fly at 4 o’clock in the morning. Security – I look harmless enough and go right through / but the agent pats the puppy down thoroughly (smiling all the while).

 

GAGE chews down two Calming Treats at home (more for my angst than his) and one more in the airport. With eyes glazed, he offers up an I think I’m going to like flying puppy smile and prepares to enjoy the journey. Something we all should do in life’s second half.

 

Next, we search out an “Animal service area.” In airports, we look for signs reading: “A Pet Relief Area is available near the Short Term Parking Lot east of the Terminal – the area is marked with a sign.” “There is a grassy area outside Door 2 (across road),” etc. Who knew such wonders existed?

 

But after asking directions and rushing to get there before it’s too late, GAGE snubs them all, every single one, preferring home carpet to artificial airport turf. Instead, GAGE declares the concourse between A35 and A36 as the perfect spot to “feel so much better!” Accidents happen to everyone and we can’t always pick where.

 

In flight, a passenger seated next to me says, “What a great puppy. I can hardly keep my hands off him.” Another passenger protests: “You expect me to sit by a dog? Humph. I didn’t know they let dogs on airplanes!” GAGE learns what we all must learn, not everyone loves us. But before the plane leaves the runway, he’s already forgotten, because dogs don’t hold grudges. Like people, we’re just loyal and dependable to the one who loves us (and feeds us).

 

My son, Stephen, picks us up at the Savannah/Hilton Head International Airport. Thirty minutes later we arrive at home. It is a special week. We eat out as well as at home. GAGE and I enjoy Compassion Christian Church, and being with the guys who work with Stephen, viewing some of their current and future building projects, and just hanging with part of the family GAGE didn’t know he had until now. Family is good for dogs and people, too.

 

Heading west again

The trip home is a replica of the one a week ago, except longer and we’re going west, not east.

 

GAGE morphs into] SuperDog once again.

Young women still remain vulnerable: “What a cute dog, he’s so precious, may I? I need to pet him, he’s so adorable;”

and small children still love him: “Mommy, a dog! can I pet it?”

and men of any age who own (or once upon a time owned ) a dog still say: “look at those feet, he’s going to be a big one; what is he? a service dog? Really. I had a dog once; (while rubbing his face and ears) is petting him okay?”

 

At last, touching down in Seattle, we are both happy to be home.

 

The morning after

I do not see whether GAGE is playing or is spooked by something, but all at once he comes on a gallop across living room carpet onto hallway hardwood, attempting to slow down as he goes for the kitchen corner.

 

Too late! Paws and legs fly in all directions as he slides into the turn, crashing into the wall and the water bowl I’ve just finished filling.”

 

With a sheepish look, he scrambles to his feet, standing in the center of the small lake he has just created. A worried face says it all: this does not look good for my future career as an ESA (emotional support animal) dog, does it?

 

A puppy miracle

No need to declare him a sinner. He has done something he already knows is bad and like many of his human counterparts, he quickly tries to make it disappear by licking up the evidence of wrongdoing, glancing up now and then, knowing instinctively he’s in an impossible situation.

 

He is a lost pup, awaiting judgment, but throwing himself on the mercy of his master.

 

This is when the miracle happens in a pup’s life.

 

Maybe it’s even happened in yours.

 

It’s when the Master puts his arm around us, gets down in the mess we have made and says, “Yep, it’s a mess all right. Here, let me help you clean this up and I’ll show you how this never has to happen again.”

 

Three towels later on my part, and countless lapping up efforts on his, we are able to sop the water from off the floor. Forgiveness. Redemption. Between his master’s expression of patient love and GAGE’s puppy smiles of relief, mercy has prevailed.

 

Maybe this is greatest lesson of all for those of us living in life’s second half.

 

Yes, Gage is a good dog. Except when he’s not.

 

Yep, it’s me. Almost 22 … weeks that is. Life is good.

 

There is no way I’m going to get any relief in these places. A good idea gone bad.

My ministry is good in here Georgia, too. This is Ava, my new best church friend.

 

DIRT!! They have DIRT in Georgia. Digging dirt is so much fun. Getting my face in the dirt is fun. EATING dirt is fun. We just have cement and grass where I live. I LOVE DIRT!!

 

This is my master’s son. His name is Stephen, like in the Bible. I like him. He lets me sleep on his lap after a hard day’s digging DIRT.

 

My master says I shouldn’t be sleeping on his bed. I say, “Its okay. I’m on vacation.”