At 17…

At 17, a dog is considered way older than most senior dogs. If he is all fit and happy, you can see it. And if you can see that glow in its eyes, it means he has some strong will-power and a bond of iron attached to you.

I can’t exactly tell you when I saw it happening. I am not sure whether it was all at once or was it gradual…spread between months and years. In fact I am surprised, how could I have not noticed before.

Bruno, who is often referred to as a pomeranian, (but isn’t so), has always been silly as a puppy and obedient as a boarding school pupil. He is the good boy of the house, who literally smiles when cuddled, and winks when spoken to. He is a tiny German Spitz badass breed, fluffy as a stuffed toy and playful as a monkey. He is too good to mingle with the other animals, won’t even look at them as they wag tails or smell his butt! He just does his job somewhere in mud on the sidewalk and enters the gates of his castle, not to appear again…till his subjects take his highness for a routine walk again.

All this for the past 17 years…

As I rush home with excitement to see him… I am taken aback. He is in a deep sleep, has not even realised that I am in the room after the door banged shut. His senses have gone weak and he won’t even jump around me anymore. When called out aloud with a soft nudge, he opens those tired eyes and instantly wags his tail. He tries to walk but his hind legs don’t support him. He loses balance landing on the soft mattress. Before there is another attempt, I am already by his side, cuddling that silky soft head, planting kisses all over it.

This is just one of the big changes I have to digest. He is in a deep slumber most of the time and food no more attracts him. He can’t jump up on the bed like he used to and he can’t wrestle with me like before. There is a certain charm at this age too. When picked up, he rushes to lay his head on my lap and demands more cuddles. He accompanies me when I am in the garden, looking after me, checking for snakes. Post security check, he sleeps by my side while I flip pages of the book I am reading. We have our fixed seats in the verandah and there is no change in them even today.

All the funny things remain the same, only occurring at the pace of a sloth. If not everything, he manages things he loves to do…

Our roles have reversed in a way. I wake up at the crack of dawn and gently caress his thinning cheeks to wake him up. I take the toys to him, for may be a little chance to play. On occasions when I am not scolded for bothering him, I manage to grab his mouth or tie all his limbs together, our usual play! He remembers the escape strategies and wags his tail in the attempt to escape, only to remind me that he is still less doggy and more monkey, just like before.

He and I, we know that the days are numbered. That we have less time and that life is narrowing up on things. But each day is a blessing… and each time I am with him, with the coming of the sun I remind him… how much I love him!