Pitbulls Get Old Too

The Pitbull: a  muscular fierce looking dog with a bad reputation, usually unearned. I’m sure, like me, you’ve heard it a million times that “it depends on the owner”.  Still, I am a little uncomfortable when I see a Pitbull pulling their owner wherever the dog wants to go! This morning I was walking my little doggies and spotted a  Pitbull being walked and I held up my doggies. I’ve learned avoidance is sometimes the best response . I stood and watched as the owner led the dog up the stairs to their house.Their progress was slow as the dog had a difficult time negotiating the stairs and moved very stiffly. At the top of the stairs the dog turned and I saw a very gray muzzle, and I realized the dog was quite old. Immediately, my heart was full of kinship and sorrow.  I thought, as my eyes teared up, “Yes, Pitbulls get old too.”

All animals get old, including all human animals like me. For a moment, that Pitbull and I were both old souls with beating hearts. I felt compassion for the two of us with our aging bodies. We were once strong and curious and had the world on a leash.  I feel so connected to dogs, and I know for sure that we are a “we” and know each other well..  Puppies and babies are so magnetic and lovable, we gravitate to them,  but old dogs and old people are an acquired taste. We learn to love aging faces and bodies as we ourselves are aging. 

I believe that aging and awe are traveling companions and curiosity is the glue that holds them together. Like the Pitbull, I explore the world on my daily walks and often spot something ordinary that brings me awe. I move slower; this speed allows the world to rush in over my walls. Lest I get too philosophical and cerebral, I know aging can be a very difficult experience. Aging brings  a lot of losses to grieve. The physical, emotional and spiritual losses that come with aging keep me tethered to resistance.  How do I overcome the urge to fight aging? The truth is I’m not into overcoming much of anything, now I just want to accept it all.  Begrudging  my aging body doesn’t help me stay  healthy.  Actually resistance is not good for much of anything.  Reality always wins, and in spite of it I find that I still love and am loved. Raging at my diminishing capabilities is a waste of precious time.  I choose instead to be grateful that my hearing aides and my glasses can compensate for some of the sensory deficits I have. Of course, I have my moments of anger and regret, but I don’t hang out there. The kindness of the pitbull’s owner help him to take in the world, and make sure that he isn’t isolated from the great “ outside” and companionship. I’d like to think we humans want that for each other too. 

Some days the equation seems to be as x (age) goes up, y ( joy) goes down, but I know it’s the choices I make that create the “new” math of my life.  I have so much less to manage and worry about.  I get to say “I don’t care.”and “So what!” at least once a day. How satisfying is that? I get to care for my doggies, and other peoples dogs too, as they and I age.   We can count dog years and people years,  but we all know it’s the life in those years that counts.  We both deserve “treats” and walks every day, and massive amounts of unconditional love. Birthdays add up and joys add up too.