Older folk not only seem to downsize their living quarters and lose a couple of inches in height during the Fourth Quarter, they not infrequently downsize their Dogs, as well. Cannot quite imagine trying to win a leash pull with a St. Bernard, at this time of life. But I can still pretend to be Master to a peanut-sized Dog.
I know. I know. There are still older men just waiting to call their Doctor telling the Doc that the Cialis side-effect finally happened ... that four hour anomalous "amorization" ... but yanking a 180 pound pooch who wants to go that-a-way instead if this-a-way ... is not the same. One might cause myocardial infarction .. but the other .... losing the leash thing with a Dog? brings public shame. The uberDog after pulling you over does a happy dance .... Anyway .... Gunther is no uberDog ... maybe 40 pounds ... with droopy ears and something other than a commanding presence.
Mornings? He still refuses to move from the top landing of stairs until I pet him vigorously on the head and apologize for taking him away from M, his beloved. Gunther often groans -- I can't tell if he learned this from us or came upon it rightfully and on his own -- whenever he changes position on the couch he calls his own, at least when he hasn't commandeered a chair in which I more often than not sit at the end of long days ... and he kvetches there, too.
He does still snarl when I enter a room in which he and M are spending quality time .... but the GooberDog lets out these long groans and often has a gas-retention issue, to boot. As I write, he's on his couch with his head and one paw drooped over one arm ... and is snoring quietly.
Bye ...
I better go to work ... things could be worse ... I could be draped over the other arm of the couch.
Count your blessings, Howard.
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