You know the drill. You’re showered and all shined up like a pretty penny. You’ve chosen your clothes with care and even put on some make-up. You’re ready to go, but stop and ask yourself: do I smell like pee?
To be clear, the possibility of smelling like pee would be fault of my old dog and not of a bathroom accident on my part – although that has admittedly felt highly possible of late. He has trouble with his back legs now and has to be carried outside to do his business, and at times he may dribble a bit on the way out. It’s something we put up with he and I. I put up with dribbles and he puts up with the daily reminders of his frail and elderly state. It’s what you do when you grow old together, until the time comes that more difficult decisions need to be made.
To be fair, I’m thinking that he is just as patient with me in this aging together thing. He has likely witnessed the biggest changes in me as I’ve started running headlong into my mid-60s. He always got up to join me in the 6 am kitchen everyday when I was still tackling my career. He would wait patiently for his bowl of breakfast kibble while I moved stealthily around the room, pressing buttons for coffee and checking notes for the day’s meetings and checking the fridge for something to pack along for lunch. I was never zippy, but I was definitely sure-footed.
Now he waits for his little boost down the stairs, followed by his kibble that has to be pre-soaked for softness, while I wander around. I might pick up my jacket and walk to the counter, put down my jacket and try to remember why I walked to the counter. Wander to his food canister and then remember he has to pee first. Then remember I have to pee and then get caught up in a bit of wandering in the bathroom. Eventually we pull it altogether, at which point I thank my lucky stars that I only see 6 am on two mornings each week now.
My fridge has also witnessed a big change in me as I retire. I guess it’s my relationship with my fridge that has changed. I worried that I would be too close to it for too much of the day to continue with the healthy relationship we had developed over the years. Luckily that hasn’t happened – not yet, anyway. As I absent-mindedly pour milk onto my high fibre cereal in the morning, though, I often realize I have no idea how long ago I bought the milk. I look at the expiration date with relief, thinking that date is so far off into the future it’s all good. As I take a spoonful, though, I realize I have no idea what the date actually is that day. No reason to! Except that the taste of the milk is telling me it’s later than I think.
Also, my fridge is full of fresh fruit and veggies that need time to be cut! That daily reminder that I have more time now is a blessing. So I figured having more time and a changing mindset meant I could accept an invitation to dinner, which is what I started writing about several paragraphs ago! Preparing for a date, indeed, became the subject of a whole other story which is now part of a short story collection from an Australian publisher ‘Pure Slush’ – the 11th in a span of unique books that cover the full spectrum of life from birth to, well, death. I would have been thrilled to have known about the lifespan series when it started four years ago – I would have had something to say about each phase of life. But my writing was accepted in the final two books and can be read on my website.