Old dogs don’t age any more gracefully than most humans. We kinda draw into ourselves and spend a lot of time dreamin’ about the good old days. Uncle Leonard, who died at ninety-four, said it best: “Why can’t we lose our testicles and keep our teeth.”

OL’ ROOKIE’S FLASHBACK

Old dogs. They write songs about ’em and watermelon wine. They have sayings about ’em learning new tricks. They even name feet after them, i.e., “My ol’ dogs are shore tired!”

In a dog’s life span, they usually figure seven dog years equals one human year. Little dogs usually live longer than big dogs. Fourteen is old for a dog. Rookie turned fourteen this year.

Ol’ Rookie is a good-sized spotted hound dog belonging to my friend Mac. I saw the two of them this summer. Mac was lookin’ good; Rookie looked like a dyin’ duck in a thunder-storm! He was drawn up and pore. He panted and gazed into space a lot of the time. He had trouble getting up and down. He stumbled over Popsicle sticks and tumblebugs.

We thought he was so deaf, he couldn’t hear himself bark. But after closer observation, we noticed that when you called him, ol’ Rookie would look the other way. I reckon he was just ignoring us. A privilege we grant older folks of any species.

He practiced “snappin flies.” Only trouble was, after they’d been snapped, he’d open his mouth and the fly would buzz out lazily. Rookie didn’t have many teeth left, ya see.

He had fleas, ticks, and a squadron of flies that hovered over him like groupies around a rock star. I suggested we give him a bath and hang an insecticide ear tag on his collar. Mac said he’d considered that, but he was afraid the ol’ dog would be lonesome. I didn’t understand. He said ol’ Rookie is packin’ his own peanut gallery!

He’d doze off in the shade of a tree, then sit up suddenly and start barking. Then he’d look around with a puzzled expression and flop back down in the grass. Barkin’ at old memories.

I saw him walk out to the road and visit with a Doberman female. They sniffed, and I saw his tail wag a little and a silly grin slide across his ol’ gray muzzle. I said, “Look at that. He’s still got fire in the furnace!”

Mac glanced at his longtime canine pardner and said, “Don’t get yer hopes up. I think ol’ Rookie’s just havin’ a flashback.”