TulsaPets Magazine November 2021

November/December 2021 • TulsaPets 33 T oday, Howie, my best-boy Dalmatian, is 15 years, 6 months and 2 days old. But who’s counting? Me. I’m counting. I’m counting my blessings every minute of every beautiful day with this dog. He’s my guy. The last of a very special family of dogs I’ve been so fortunate to love through the years. His great-grand- mother and grandfather shared my home, and both are firmly cocooned in my heart. To have a dog live 15-plus years is a gift, but sometimes, it’s easy to just move through the day-to-day routine taking things for granted. Doing my “dog chores.” Getting them fed, out to potty, washing blankets, sweeping up hair, keeping up with vet appointments. All the normal stuff. But sometimes in that routine-focused existence, you can miss some poignant moments. The realization hit me when I read a story written by a mom lamenting about how she couldn’t remember the last time her school-aged son had given her a hug and a kiss goodbye at morning drop-off. Now, the too-old, too-cool boy had stopped the routine, opting to just scoot quickly out of the car instead. She wished she had known when that last embarrassed hug happened so she could really appreciate it. That made me wonder. When were some of Howie’s last times for familiar routines? For example, during mealtime, when I’m passing out food for a healthy number of dogs, our own and our foster dogs, Howie always made it his habit to wait for me to close the dog food bin and then he’d hop on top of it to eat his meal. It was his idea and a good one. After all, he is king dog of this castle, so a perch overlooking his other subjects seemed fitting. At some point, as aging joints and mus- cles started doubting the two-foot vertical hop, Howie would stand waiting for his meals right in front of the bin, eventually preferring a raised feeder for added comfort. What day did he make that last hop onto the bin? What day did he decide he no longer could? As time marches on, there are more inevitable changes. I’ve learned that Howie doesn’t really want to go for walks or car rides these days. He’s a homebody now, and a nap on a cushy dog bed paired with a casual amble around the familiar terrain of our backyard is all the adventure he craves. And that’s OK with me. I can adjust. Though when was the last time he walked with me all the way to the road and back? Would it have been better to know so I could slow our pace and linger in the expe- rience? Or is it best that I had no premoni- tion in case worry robbed me of the ability to be in and enjoy the moment? And when was the last time he jumped up into my partner, Jim’s, waiting arms? Jim has taught several of our dogs to leap up so he can catch them. Howie loved perform- ing this trick, and he was the master. He jumped high and executed a graceful turn midair, in complete faith that Jim would catch him. It was impressive. Then came the times when Howie was invited to jump but hesitated, lacking the confidence to execute the move. I wish we had known when a specific leap was the last one. It surely would have been cause for a little extra celebratory hugging. And when was the last time he gave me a high-five? Actually, it was a fist bump, a much cooler move. He loved performing this trick as much as I did. Often, Howie would raise his paw high into the air for a bump before I even asked. Now, when I offer my closed hand and ask for a bump, he wags his tail and perks his ears but does not return the gesture. That’s OK, buddy. There are a lot of Howie routines that are