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Saturday, 10 February 2018

A senior Senior!

One of the slightly disconcerting things about life stages is you just get used to being in one and then you find yourself in another. Take for example my senior status. I had just adapted to being, well, senior, and now I find I've crept into the 'very senior' category without ever really giving my permission.
      Still, as I'm an optimistic kind of dog, I like to turn every situation to my advantage.  As one of the oldest members of the Twitter group, the BT Posse, I have formed a sub-group, for those Border Terriers who've reached double figures, called the SODs; Senior Obstreperous Delinquents, a worthy group, living up to their name at every opportunity. I am also making the most of my senior statesman role to ensure the youngest members are getting the correct advice on true BT ways. I don't want the next generation turning into a bunch of 'yes furs'. One of the youngest Posse recruits, a pupster called Pudding, is shaping up very nicely, and I take comfort from reading about his misdemeanours on Twitter.  I also like to lead by example, and although the opportunities for misbehaviour do diminish, along with speed and energy over time, I still think that I maximise every chance that comes my way and actively create a few of my own.
      Take exercise, I've gradually become more and more selective as to when I consider a morning pootle to be appropriate for a dog of my age. If it's raining or blowing, and especially if it's both, I refuse to go. I allow 'Her Indoors' to get us both all togged up, and then I grind to a halt on the drive so we have to go back again. I've also found that it's quite fun, on mornings that 'Her Indoors' isn't in any particular rush and quite fancies a walk, to refuse to oblige, but then on the mornings when she has a busy start and needs to get going, I decide that a nice slow walk, sniffing at length at all the interesting smells over the field, and ideally meeting a few of my senior friends as well, is just the ticket. If she tries to hurry me, I give her my best baleful stare so that she feels guilty. Sorted!
      Another area that I've experimented with is food. I've come to the conclusion that I've been far too obliging in this department so now that I'm not burning quite so much energy, I've become a bit more discerning. 'Her Indoors' has tried experimenting with a variety of different dog food types, but I've decided I prefer the food she eats to all that processed stuff made out of the obscure bits of animals that even they didn't know they had. It's taken a bit of effort but I've perfected the art of getting what I want. Around tea time, I start whining and looking hungry, building up to climax as my food bowl hits the floor. I then look at the contents with disbelief and disappointment, but continue to whine and look hungry. Eventually, she'll give in and get some tuna or chicken that I then eat like a dog who hasn't seen a square meal for days. It's working well and some days we skip the boring kibble stage and go straight to the good stuff.
      There's also the area of ailments and general wellness. The trick is to keep the anxiety levels at a suitably high level - above normal but just short of going to the Vet - by occasional vomiting, having little indiscretions on the kitchen floor or in my bed, looking vacant and drinking more than normal. Just when they're really getting anxious and are talking about making a Vet's appointment, you then perk up and start gambolling round the garden like a spring lamb. It ensures that 'Them Indoors' are constantly reminded of your seniority and the increasing proximity of the rainbow bridge, and treat you with the corresponding reverence.
      They, of course, are worrying about this multi-coloured overpass regularly on my behalf, whilst I don't worry about it at all. After all, a lot of my Pals have been over the bridge and I haven't heard any complaints. Also, the founder of the BT Posse, Marley, does duty at it's toll-gate, so I can't see there's any cause for concern. Providing he's got a few beers in and he's locked up the bunnies, I don't anticipate it'll be a problem when it comes to it. Not that I'm planning anything in the immediate future you understand, I owe it to 'Him Indoors' to live as long as possible, it's the least I can do. Anyway, I'm having far too much fun exploiting this latest life stage to be moving onto the next one too soon.  Now pass a beef steak 'Her Indoors', I'm feeling peckish...
Why would I want dog food...?

Don't mind if I do.....

I'm only walking if I want to!

 

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