Old Dogs and Old Men

picture of Sam, 15 year old Dachshund
Old Sam

When one enters those golden years of retirement and reflection on one’s life, you grok things that have evaded your understanding. Maybe you completely ignored certain things earlier in life, or reserved a particular exercise in cosmic contemplation for another day.

Guess what? Sometime around the age of sixty, that day of contemplation will come, whether you want it or not. As a matter of fact, some things you totally forgot to think about will come back and haunt you as a blinding glimpse of the obvious (BGO).

You will remember conversations from thirty years ago where you were completely slimed by someone you thought was a friend. Past occasions float into your memory, and you suddenly realize that something you did socially was the equivalent of farting in church. It was just wrong, and you didn’t even realize it at the time.

The redeeming thing to the sexagenarion male  about these revelations is that they don’t matter, anymore. Age is an effective leavening factor in knowledge, emotions, and attitude. You see, old guys just don’t care.

Just as my 15-year-old hound dog doesn’t care where he hikes his leg, old guys get to the point where they don’t care where they relieve themselves, either. Well, the poor old hound can’t hike his leg, anymore. Come to think of it, I can’t hike mine, either.

When you see an old man wandering around with his fly unzipped, it is not that he is flashing people, or trying to scare teenage girls. He is no longer a threat to anybody, and he knows it.  He also doesn’t care who hears him curse, either, and there will be a whole lot of cussing from an old guy because some of his parts don’t work anymore.

So, instead of kicking my old hound dog when he pees on the floor, I just cuss him some and clean it up. I am afraid I am starting to understand the old boy, after all.

8 thoughts on “Old Dogs and Old Men”

  1. I’m not admitting a THING about MY age but I do see your point 🙂
    My grandmother was the most lovely, dignified, polite woman ever and one would hear a soft belch here and there when she turned about sixty and till she died at 90. I used to think “Grandma, how shocking!” Now I know she just didn’t give a darn! Good for Grandma!

  2. I’m not admitting anything, either, but too many people know me to hide my age category. By the way, I really don’t do some of those things.

  3. I have a cat that is not aging well. And, yes, I let her get away with doing things I’d have previously punished her for.

    I have noticed that older people really do tend to say exactly what they mean — and to hell with what other people think. I guess that I’m getting ot that point myself. 😉

  4. Well, since I am only 42, I have come to conclusion that I will speak my mind, dress how I want and listen to what I want. I guess when we reach a certain age of maturity, all that trivial stuff doesn’t matter. And I am there. I still listen to heavy metal, I still wear jeans and t-shirts and by golly, I will die a Christian and Trekkie.

  5. Can you be a Christian and listen to ‘metal at the same time? In my Baptist youth we weren’t supposed to dance because it wasn’t church like, and evil thoughts might jump in our heads as we rubbed up against girls. Oh, the lives that some people live.

  6. Well, I hope “old” is a long way off for you. Just remember, though, that you can make all sorts of excuses based on age, and I do it all the time. I have yet to find an excuse for ogling at foxy women, although I don’t think I need one.

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