Old Duffer

Yesterday was Ozzy's 11th birthday.  I can't believe he's this old.  It seems like just the other day that a little 4-lb pupster joined our family.

We'd spent the weekend before his arrival building a fence to enclose the front part of the garden so he couldn't walk down the slope and fall over the stone wall into the street. It was just days before his first birthday, a bitterly cold January, temperature around 28*F, not counting the wind chill. Somehow, we managed to build a great fence that held true over the next six years and is still standing now.  At least I think it is...haven't heard otherwise from my friends in the old Edinburgh neighborhood.

The next Sunday, the breeder brought him to our house, then Alan and I took him outside to get used to his new yard...and he promptly jumped up onto the wall by the gate--at least a three-foot leap--and pranced along the entire perimeter as Alan and I freaked out. There were too many trees and shrubs for us to reach him from inside the yard, and with our new fence we couldn't go down the slope.  That left us following along outside on the sidewalk hoping to catch him if he fell.  When he reached the end, he spun around like an acrobat, and pranced the whole way back to the gate where I finally managed to nab him.

Ozzy's been to more places than most people, has traveled half way around the world twice, and the length and breadth of Great Britain numerous times.  He's been across America--from one coast to the other--two times.  He loves good hotels and friendly staff members who admire his handsome self.  He's bossy and sweet, high-maintenance and adorable...and thinks I'm his servant.  Which is probably true.

The old rule of thumb about 7 dogs years for every human one has been revised, factoring in size and weight--small dogs live longer, for example.  Here's a chart that shows the new way to figure things...

By this calculation, Oz is 60, and just about ready for early retirement. I wonder what he's got in mind?  Travel, a condo in Florida, taking up golf?  Right now he's laying on his bed next to me, snoring away as he takes an afternoon siesta.  Guess I'll have to wait until later to ask about his plans...