So I was driving home from my daily swim at the lake the other day when I saw a person taking a walk with a dog that resembled a dachshund.
That's the story, RK out.
P.S. I should add that the dog seemed old. He walked slower than our 4-month-old puppy, and his general behavior seemed somewhat tired. My heart suddenly ached.
And it's stupid! I know it is! After all, the dog was probably happy and joyous and enjoying his walk with his person on this beautiful August afternoon. He probably had a ton of wonderful memories from different periods of his life which he could revisit anytime he wanted.
But he was old. He was closer to the end of his life than to the beginning. The youthful playfulness he used to have in his childhood was irrevocably gone by this point.
All I've ever known about our dog is that he's a little jester who's playful and full of energy. To think that he'll one day be as slow and tired as the old dog I saw... well, it breaks my heart.
Especially since all the little thing wants to do is to play with me and my husband all day, but we can't oblige to the extent that he'd like, because we have to work. (Luckily he needs a ton of naps.)
One day soon, he'll stop wanting to play with us, and we'll wonder where the playfulness went while throwing his ball which he no longer wants to chase.
He'll be old. But we still see the energetic little puppy.
And then he'll die and leave a gaping hole in our hearts.
He shouldn't go before us.
Why do dogs only live 14 years?
