I have some family friends who are in their 70’s and, some time ago, they lost their old dog to the big puppy club in Heaven.
After some years, the wife decided that they should get a new pup. A terrier cross. Anyone who has had a Jack Russell or any kind of terrier will know that they eat energizer batteries for breakfast and only have two speeds: fast and really fast. Terriers are a mix of Formula 1 and Demolition Derby.
A few months in, hubby is unhappy and complaining that the little fella is a handful, too energetic, too demanding and too tiring. All I could say was “ at least it’s not a woman. “
You see, many of our lovely older men still see themselves as the young man that jogged down the beach or in the park, flexed his muscles and bared his chest to the admiration of his female admirers. But perhaps he would really be panting and trying to keep up and wondering whose bright idea it was to go for a jog in the first place.
We often forget that we are better suited to a quiet comfy mate who tolerates the reality of who we have become and young pups and young chicks don't fit with our comfy familiar lifestyle.
As the boobs sag and the bums drop, so the husband burps , scratches his “ jibbies “ with gay abandon and neither one complains too harshly if the other drops an inadvertent “ gas leakage “ under the doona in bed at night.
A young pup doesn’t fit with the comfy armchair, the newspaper by the fireside on a cold winter’s evening or the snugly dozing on a frosty morning. Oh no.
The pup wants to be pouncing on the bed, diving under the doona to discover the source of that wondrous odour and then romp down the road at high speed in spite of the frost, snow or rain that may be pelting down.
It also wants to claim your territory.
The young pup wants to get out in the backyard or park, chase a ball, have parties with his new mates down the beach or under the nearest lamp post – where he can have a pissing competition to see who can pee the longest, furthest or even who can dig a bigger hole in hubby’s vege patch.
You see, as we age, we become old dogs who don’t want to learn new tricks. We prefer to be adored and admired for the tricks we once performed. Alot of our conversations start with “ I remember when…. “
The only thing I could say to my friend, when she lamented her decision to acquire a young, boisterous terrier puppy was that she should be thankful he is groaning about a puppy.
Can you imagine what he would do with a 20 year old nubile chicky babe?
She, like the puppy, would want to go out dancing until 2am, running down the beach and sitting by a roaring fire with little thought of a newspaper in her mind..........???!!!
If hubby is exhausted with a young dog, imagine his ability to keep up with a new bird?
Surely, within days he would be begging for someone to take the nubile nympho to a bar somewhere and pray that she found a new “ owner “?
Surely?
He could then get back to chatting with his mates, under the nearest lamp post and discussing their prostate operations or how their hip operation had been cancelled because of the virus and “ by God, if I had that hip operation, I’d be back running in a fortnight “ .
Wouldn't he?
Hmm... maybe the puppy wasn't a bad idea after all....!
