The best thing about puppies is that eventually they do grow out of it.
For Casey, my part-Lab (but mostly mutt), it took three years to get past the shoe-chewing and jump-on-everything stage. When she did, though, she turned almost overnight into a wonderfully gentle and obedient dog. Good thing, since she’s been my roommate for 15 years.
Like many dog owners, I didn’t think much about the long-term commitment when I plucked her out of a litter of puppies while I was a college student. It seemed like a really cool thing to do at the moment.
My life certainly has been different because I have her. Whenever I move, the “no dogs allowed” line eliminates hundreds of housing choices; vacations can involve complicated logistics to arrange dog-sitting; and, of course, there’s the dog hair. I should’ve bought stock in Hoover.
But I also take walks every day (whether I want to or not) and have met most of my neighbors. I can recognize a smile on Casey’s face, and I know how much joy one rawhide bone can bring her.
Following the common “dog-years” equation of seven dog years to one human year, Casey just celebrated her 105th birthday.
Most dogs, according to the American Kennel Club, have a life expectancy from 9 to 12 years, though smaller dogs tend to live longer and some breeds are predisposed to life-threatening conditions earlier in life.
I know Casey doesn’t have a lot of years left, but she’s pretty healthy, and it’s hard to think about life without her. She hobbles with arthritis, and she can’t be bothered with chasing squirrels or sticks anymore, but I can’t imagine a cooler old lady to hang out with.