Togo Goes Partying

Don’t tell anyone, but my birthday is this Sunday, September 24. I don’t want anyone to make a big fuss over this. But our house will be the one with the big bounce house outside and the snow cone truck if you’re in the neighborhood.¹

I’ll be eleven years old in human years. Do you know how old that makes me in dog years?

Most people think that you just multiply human years by seven to get dog years. But it’s much more complicated than that. The Farmer’s Almanac has all the necessary info.

First, you have to determine whether I’m a small, medium, large, or giant dog. To save you the time and effort of finding scales and coming to my house, let me just say up front that I weigh in at 77 pounds. That makes me a large dog. Several years ago before I was watching what I eat, I tipped the scales at 85. But even then, I was just a large dog.

Next, you look down the “human year” column until you find the right age. As you move down and keep an eye on the large dog years column you’ll see that I was 15 at one year and 24 at two years. After that, my dog age increases 4-6 years each year.

Except between my human years five and six. For some reason, my dog age jumps 9 years during that period. I’m sure someone might try to explain that scientifically, statistically, and/or mythically. When I look back, I’m pretty sure it’s because that’s the year I ate two or three of Momma’s gardening gloves . . . or the bottom of the swimming pool. No, it had to be the gloves. I was just a pup when I took out the swimming pool.

But all of that is beside the point. In dog years, I will be 72 this year.²

Momma and Daddy are planning a quiet celebration. In an effort to show that I can still exhibit untold joy and energy, I plan to bark a lot. Especially when they sing the birthday song. (I find it to be particularly grating, repetitive, and boring, but tolerable since it invariably leads to cake and ice cream.)

I was only in my mid-60s last year, so this is the first time that I will experience life as a septuagenarian. These are uncharted waters for me.

Daddy is old. So, I’m using him as my model. In fact, I’m already acting like him in a number of ways:

1. Daddy tends to nap a lot. Like whenever he sits down after lunch. I nap alot.

   

2. Daddy gets up at night to go to the bathroom. I do that, too.

3. Daddy eats really fast. I’m the fastest.

   

4. Daddy likes to pat me. I like to be patted.

5. Daddy walks slower than he used to. I’m walking slower, too. Although I still have “reserve power” to take off like lightning when I want to. When Daddy walks slow I’m pretty sure that he is already using his reserve power.

6. Daddy can’t hear very well. I can. So it’s my job to make sure he doesn’t get run over by a fire engine on our walks. (This one is not like the others.)

   

7. The physician’s assistant at Daddy’s doctor’s office makes him drink a lot of water. I do it naturally. And I don’t complain like Daddy does.

8. Daddy takes pills everyday. I take pills, too. Momma puts them in pill pockets that taste like chicken or peanut butter. She pretends it’s just a snack. But I have discerning tastebuds and know better. (This is different from Daddy who shows very little discernment in matters of taste and would probably eat rocks if they were hidden in something that tastes like peanut butter or chicken.)

9. Daddy sheds a lot. I shed, too. Except my fur comes back. Daddy just gets slicker.

10. Daddy’s face lights up when he sees me. And I wag my tail whenever I see him and Momma.

So, I guess I’m already pretty good at being old. And I am delighted to be.

The truth is, we all have to be some age. Whether we’re young or old, we are exactly where we should be. And it doesn’t take the Farmer’s Almanac to figure that out.

1. Requested by me, but still pending approval from the City of Abilene. (Actually, Daddy just said that because he doesn’t want to spend big bucks.)

2. Daddy had a fancy-schmancy genetic study done on me that took into consideration all of my ancestors. That was over three years ago and those scientists said I was already 70 then. I like farmers and their almanac better than scientists.