Life Lessons from My Senior Dog
When I climb into bed and think about how I spent my day and how I wish I had spent it better, there is always one thought on repeat: I didn’t do enough for my dogs today.
We all know and see and understand that dogs bring more to our lives than we ever deserve. They love unconditionally, they never judge us, and they’re our constant companions through thick and thin. I strive to give my dogs the world every day because it’s what they deserve—all the time, energy, love, and affection that I have in me.
But there are so many days where I can’t even give myself or my partner or my job 100%. And it always feels like my dogs get the leftover me: walks when I have time, PT when I have energy, training when I am able to tap into an infinite source of patience (not often). I always want to be better for them because they are simply the best.
Especially now that Pogo and Peekaboo have gotten older and there are more days behind us than in front of us, I’m constantly kicking myself for not going outside to play fetch, squeezing in a walk around the block, or for never setting up the lure course as much as Peekaboo wanted to play with it. I have regrets over the time I spent scrolling on my phone instead of kissing their faces, working late instead of driving to our favorite park for a long summer walk, or bedrotting instead of hanging out in the shade of my backyard trees with all my dogs.
It feels like I have to make the most of every day, every hour, every minute, every second. And the pressure I put on myself to maximize the time we have left is suffocating. I find myself anxiously checking my phone or my watch for the time, calculating when I can find just 30 seconds to give Peekaboo a belly rub or throw the ball for Pogo or give Poppy her favorite treat. Then, the waves of guilt come back as I turn my attention back to whatever thing I have to do, which is never what I really want to do.
It’s so easy to slip into these periods of time where I’m going through the motions, not really present and not really absent. Just following instructions, checking items off a to-do list, sticking to the routine, only to repeat it all again the next morning when my alarm goes off.
I love that when I leave my pajamas in bed, Poppy will take them and bring them downstairs. I don’t know why she does it. Maybe she likes that they smell like me or she’s just testing what’s hers, testing whether I’ll take it or let her keep it. But whenever I see my pajama top on the stairs or my pajama bottoms out on the deck, it feels like she’s begging me to pay attention to her. And all I do is pick them up and put them back where they were. Sometimes, she’ll pick them up again and it’s some kind of competition to see how many times I’ll put them back. Other times, she gives up and leaves them on the bed where they belong.
But my older dogs, Pogo and Peekaboo, have given up on asking. At least, that’s how it feels. They’ll ask for dinner if it’s late or treats if they’re sitting nearby. But they’ve resigned themselves to their (many) beds strewn throughout the house, acting pleasantly surprised and then nearly ecstatic when we do end up going for a walk or making homemade pup cups.
It’s often difficult to remember that I’m doing the best I can and to forgive myself for never doing “enough.” To remember that they get more than many dogs get and that they have wonderful lives, full of love and attention and everything they need. But I want them to have everything, knowing full well I can’t give them that.
And maybe that’s the beauty of it: they deserve the whole world, and to them, we are their whole world. So we are more than enough after all.
