Yesterday I planned to talk about some of the differences between the older, wiser dog and the younger, energetic puppy. It was going to be cute and insightful and include this quote from my always-entertaining daughter: “It’s kind of like how I have a lot of energy and you don’t.” It was going to be touching yet humorous.
Then I started talking about my dog showing his age. And I started to cry. Luckily, I had to take a break and go bowling, so I paused the writing and the emotional processing. When bowling was over, I knew I had to wrap up the post quickly to get it in for the day. And while 32 ounces of beer is the ideal amount to take my bowling game from embarrassing to not-too-shabby, it is not conducive to processing complex emotions. So I quickly added the picture of my good ol’ dog and wrapped up the last few sentences.
As my signature says, there’s always something thumping around in my head. And usually those things have time to thump around and get sorted out before I get them into writing. In this case, I went with something that was fresh in my mind. I was imagining the juxtaposition of old and young, with a fun, furry twist. Turns out I was really thinking about the finality of age, of how all life is finite, and whether you believe in an afterlife or not, there will always be some sort of void when a loved one is no longer.
Funny how sometimes you don’t know exactly what’s in your mind until it actually starts coming out.