My Shih-Tzu, Saverio, and the Aging Process

My 11-pound dog, Saverio, is a pure-bred, male, shih-tzu. His official pedigree name is Little Bit's Hi Ho Saverio and he recently passed his 14th birthday. There are varying opinions of how to properly calculate dog years into human years, but one site I found online says he is now 72 human years old. I always thought the first dog year equals 10, and each year thereafter counts as 7, which would make him 101. So who knows the correct method? Anyone? I'd love to know.

What I do know is that he has brought me so much laughter and joy throughout the years and I wouldn't trade him for anything. I only wish he could live forever.

This picture of Saverio, taken by my younger sister, Jo, is from when he was a little tike. He looks like a pup, doesn't he? Well, I can see the difference. He now looks like an old man.

The poor little thing is aging. It saddens me that his time on this earth is now shorter. He doesn't see very well; his eyes are clouded over; his hearing is almost totally gone. So when I come home from work or from wherever, I have to rouse him so he knows I'm there. He needs to be carried upstairs at night and back downstairs in the morning. He is afraid of shadows, runs after wind-blown leaves because he thinks they're squirrels or chipmunks, and I have to put a treat near his nose for his sense of smell to kick in.

I never identified with older people, nor did I ever notice the aging process with dogs, cats, other animals or human beings for that matter. When I was a kid, I never once considered that my grandparents had been young at one time. I didn't know them without wrinkles, sagging skin or gray hair. It never occurred to me that they were once bright-eyed, vibrant people who had the same energy, hopes, dreams and zest for life as I had (still have). Old folk were born that way, weren't they? You see, the youth have a way of looking at life through tunnel vision. They are busy living life with a false sense of forever, and have an it'll-never-happen-to-me, getting-old-is-for-old-people, attitude.

Well, when I reached sixty years of age, I turned that corner and began to identify with the inevitable process of growing old. It was frightening to see gray roots and hints of the dreaded jowls! When I see an elderly person I now think, Yup, that's gonna be me in a few years. There's no way to stop it. Like it or not, I am becoming that person who used to be so foreign to my thought processes.

My grandsons don't know the youthful version of me. Maybe I should carry a head-sized photo of my younger self in front of my aging face wherever I go. Can you imagine if every older person did that? What a hoot!

I live in an area of New Jersey that is loaded with age 55+ retirement communities. My mother lived in one called Leisure Village. I once dreamed of winning the lottery so I could comfortably retire in an UES, Manhattan, N.Y., secure doorman building. Retirees live longer in an active, thriving environment! But, alas, that winning ticket is most elusive. And I swore I would rather die than move into, what us youngish ones referred to as, a seizure village. Isn't that a terrible term? But some of these places are gorgeous and have more to offer than bocce courts and being a pit stop to the grave.

And now, my husband and I are actually entertaining our options of downsizing to a spacious one-floor home. We could enjoy a community pool rather than care for our own, join their clubhouse gym, play golf on site, and we like the idea of having someone else mow our lawn, maintain the exterior, etc, while we savor the freedom from housework drudgery.

Becoming a snowbird is also beginning to appeal to my aging senses. In case you don't know what that is, here is a shortened Wikipedia definition:

Snowbirds are typically retirees who wish to avoid the snow and cold temperatures of northern winter, but maintain ties with family and friends by staying there the rest of the year.

Who knew this transition in thought would take place? I certainly never did! But I guess some higher power programmed us this way for a reason.

I'm just thankful that I have the opportunity to become old, and I am glad my doggie gets to be old with me. There are those who can't say that.