Be kind and keep going: A dog’s guide to growing older

Dear Mum and Dad,

It’s your dog, Clancy, writing from the city. For the first time, I’m confronting some of the problems of getting older. I’m sure you don’t need to hear this. Mum, in particular, must be thinking: “I’m going through this ageing stuff myself.”

True, she’s a whole two years older than me.

This old dog knows the secrets to growing old.

All the same, my hips are not what they once were, and – oh, the indignity – I find myself needing to be lifted onto the couch.

Still, I love life.

They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but actually, I’m full of new tricks. When executing a fast turn, I find my back legs spinning out from under me. I’m left sprawled on the ground, limbs akimbo.

Embarrassing? Potentially. But I’ve become adept at just sitting there, right where I landed with my head held high, as if it were my decision to have a quick sit down and watch the other dogs in action.

There are other positive elements to ageing. I’m in lockstep with Man. Or should I say lock-limp.

Equally, when my friends become rambunctious, charging each other, leaping and barking, I develop a sudden interest in some nearby signpost, leaving various messages at its base. The attitude I’m sending to the world: “I could play with those young dogs, but it’s more important that I register my thoughts here, employing this message board for mature dogs.”

There are other positive elements to ageing. I’m in lockstep with Man. Or should I say lock-limp. They say dogs end up looking like their owners, and really, you couldn’t have better proof than we two – both limping along, him pretending to go slowly for my sake; me pretending to go slowly for his sake.

“Oh, come along, you two,” says Lady, marching briskly ahead.

Man says: “It’s Clancy’s fault, he’s just pretending to sniff that tree to give himself a breather.”

I think (but don’t say): “Mate, I’m only pretending to sniff so you can delay what looks like an impending heart attack.”

So be kind – to yourself and those you love. That’s my No.1 advice about growing old.

I have other tips – a dog’s guide, if you will, to growing older. Perhaps I should commit my thoughts to paper? Maybe there are some humans at your farm who might benefit from my insights?

So, rule one: be kind. Then there’s my second rule of ageing: keep going. In other words, if you fall over, get up again. But only after waiting sufficient time. That way, with your head held high, it looks like you chose to “sit down on the floor for a while, admittedly, quite suddenly”.

Third point: Don’t be too proud to delegate tasks. With my hip problems, I find I can no longer scratch behind my ears. This was my main hobby for my first eight years of life – producing the same outcome that my human friends achieved through hot tubs, Thai massage or learning Ancient Greek. That’s right: complete oblivion. But, these days, I reach out for help. I put my head in Man’s lap, and as soon as my head hits, he starts scratching. Well-trained, he hits the point I like best of all. Bliss! According to studies I’ve read, it also helps his blood pressure, so it’s a win-win.

Number four: An afternoon sleep is not a crime. Sometimes, the older humans in my circle go all weird when confessing to a quick snooze in the early afternoon. Why the embarrassment? Why the tone of, “Oh, I must be getting old?” Is every Spaniard a monster? What about our Mexican friends or those who reside in that fine nation called Colombia, that country where they speak the world’s sweetest Spanish?

What about, more to the point, the world’s dogs? Nine hundred million dogs – the current global estimate – cannot be wrong! Dogs learn to snooze when we are still puppies and – over time - become supremely expert at the art. There’s that offensive human saying: “You snooze, you lose.” What rubbish! I supply an alternative: “You sleep, then reap, keep and then complete.” Here’s my deep dog wisdom: There’s no shame in a disco nap.

Five: don’t bury bones for later. I used to do this a lot. The more I was enjoying a bone, the more likely I was to cut short my pleasure and decide to hide it in the garden. OK, sure, it was often more delicious a week later, coated in dirt, buzzing with flies, tasting manky – but is delayed gratification always the world’s best philosophy? OK, when young, you should always work hard, study hard, and save hard, but what’s the point of delayed gratification unless you eventually call a halt, unless you eventually flick the switch to “Enjoy”? For me, it’s now. I’ll suck every bit of joy from that bone, then leave it, desiccated and well-sucked, on the lawn. Bury it for later? The danger is: I’m so old, I’ll forget where I’ve hidden it.

Oh, and finally, point six: Strange hairs will pop out, often at weird angles. I think they look good on a dog. To Man, I say: “Deal with them.”

Now we look the same, I find myself more concerned as to how he looks. Hope these thoughts are useful.

Your loving dog,

Clancy.

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