What is she talking about might the reader ask?
Yesterday late afternoon through much of the evening, I met up with an out of state friend and her two children at the home where they had been staying on vacation during the last week. We had pre-dinner hors d'oevres and cocktails. I reacquainted myself with my friend's host, and was introduced to someone new. We sat inside and then outside in the large lush backyard snacking, photo taking (and sending) and chatting comfortably. Mingling with us were the two family dogs, one the 14 year old Randy; the other the several months old Marley. Randy you see is most definitely on his last legs. If that were me or you, we'd sure know that, that we were living on borrowed time. But not Randy. Randy was still trying to be the dog he probably always was. He positioned himself directly underfoot, unwieldy for being elderly, not hearing well, not seeing well, but still able to smell that cheese on the plate at which he angled his longish nose. Meanwhile Marley was flitting around Randy, and as Marley got her pets for being young and cute, Randy would insinuate himself into the space with sad expectant eyes for the overflow of the love of humans for their canine companions.
Marley, of course, had no sense of the contrast between her and Randy. Poor Randy tried to poop on the expansive grass area, and there would be Marley interrupting for play, circling and flopping about Randy. There was one moment, brief lovely moment, when Randy actually got up enough steam to nearly prance toward his human companions and visitors, but his back legs would not cooperate and the flash of a former youth was gone.
Our hostess told me that she had decided to get Marley now, rather than after the inevitable happens to Randy. The family loves having a dog; one has been about all the years, nearly of her children's lives they half still homebound and half on their way to full adulthood. So, she decided that with both of the dogs, one so ancient and fragile and the other so young, sturdy and energetic, the sharing of the time and space between them, would make the transition to come, where only one, Marley, would remain, less startling, perhaps less traumatic. Randy would have have a share in Marley's life and Marley in Randy's, a holistic perfection amid the imperfection of aging and death, new life, giving passing life, meaning.
I guess I am not talking about dogs anymore am I? Among the humans, there were generations, not quite as stark a contrast in ages, no one there was as ancient as Randy (who in human years is well over 80), but there were upper middle age folk, and middle age folk and teenagers fresh of face and of world view. The kids are at a beginning phase. We, happily unlike Randy, not at the last phase (God willing and the creek don't rise), but definitely at a much later one than the seventeen and eighteen year olds with their strong resilient bodies and astoundingly various options.
I thought Marley was precious, but you know what, when Randy edged his nose into our group, I could not take my eyes off him. There was enormous life still there. And what I have now, and hope I'll have when I am Randy's age (in human years, again!), is that determination not to be written off, no matter how young and cute are the others around me. And I will know full well I am living on borrowed time, but please, let me still going for the gusto!
You know what? I thought Randy was special. So there's hope for this not quite as old but lots older than 17 or 18 soull to be considered special even when she begins to slow down. You will find me, I hope, in the midst of it all, trying to get at the cheese. Well, something like that!
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