Time marches on

Lately, I've noticed that Dante is, well, getting old.

What really brought that fact home to me was noticing that teeny, weeny, slightest bit of greying on his muzzle. Very, very slight greying, noticeable only with a squint and at a certain angle of lighting, but it's definitely greying.

Then I noticed a few more errant grey hairs along his neck. Around the edges of his ears.

Dante will be 5 years old next Spring. The average age for a Doberman? 7 years. Unfortunately, it's not a breed with a whole lot of longevity. With Dante being oversized for his breed, that's another strike against his favour where lifespan is concerned. Granted, many Dobermans do indeed live a healthy long life exceeding the breed average number of years, and with Dante's active lifestyle and excellent diet, I'm certainly hoping that that tips the odds towards a longer, illness-free life for him. Still, no one can predict the future and with the myriad of health challenges and genetic conditions faced by this breed, how long Dante is going to live is practically a roll in the roulette wheel.

What's also undeniable, and especially noticeable in the last year, is that Dante is defintely slowing down.

These days he's happy with one walk a day. And sometimes it's one at an ambling, leisurely speed. After a 3 hour romp in the great outdoors, he's more inclined to curl up in his bed than gear right up again for another 3 hour romp. He puts himself to bed by 8pm every night. On the dot. Without fail. He's no longer tearing down the walls from boredom or an excess of energy if I don't wake up by 6am the latest in the mornings. He still acts like he only gets fed once a month at every mealtime, but he's sensibly tucking away his food these days through measured chews rather than simply inhaling it in one quick gulp. He still has awesome stamina and we've marched through long hikes and whole day trials without any issues, but he's certainly no longer a challenger to the Energizer Bunny for mascot status.

The other day, while I was working away at the computer at home, Dante moseyed up to me and rested his head on the desk right next to me so that I could reach over and give him the occasional pet on the head or ear scratch every now and then during a pause in my typing. About 5 minutes later, I heard a continuous low grumbling from him and it turned out that he had fallen asleep with his head right on the desk! I chuckled at the thought of my infatigueble, "always-on" puppy (yes, he will always be a "puppy" to me) nodding off in a standing position with his head resting on a hard desk surface, but deep inside was a wistfulness that I hadn't been able to quite shake off since.

Yes, some things do get better with age. He's grown into a well-trained, intelligent dog with a more sensible approach to life acquired through years of experience. He has a dignified and regal aura about him, something that comes with maturity and the mellowing of age. His diminished need for an insatiable amount of exercise, stimulation and engagement certainly makes organizing a life and other personal interests around him far easier and more convenient. The years spent seeing each other through life's ups and downs has me convinced that at times, Dante appears to have a telepathic link to my thoughts and intentions. I am joyful of these things that come, and are only earned, through the passage of time and the building of a relationship and bond.

Yet recently, what with the various upheavals in my life in the past year, I've come to contemplate more and more often on how my life will (mortality of all living things being an inevitable fact of life after all) change once Dante is no longer with me, and when that time would be. Suffice to say, such are no pleasant thoughts running through my mind.

It is also prompts me to reflect on various speculative matters. One among them being: Without the benefit of foresight and if Dante was only to live another 2 years in staying true to the "breed average", would I want to spend those two years in a more relaxed fashion as we enjoy each other's company through various more casual, and leisurely activities, or do I want to plunge right into competitive dog sports again at a more frenetic, busy pace? More importantly, what would DANTE want or prefer, if he could ponder upon his own mortality and if he had a choice in the matter?

And yet another "question" I find myself wondering, one which really has no relation to Dante is: When Dante is "gone", will I want to bring another dog, perchance another Doberman (or two), into my life again?

These, and many other questions that have been rolling around in my head lately, I have yet to settle upon answers too. They are questions that I'm going to be wrestling with in both the very near future and in the longer term ahead.

Of course, at present, Dante is far from geriatric. Looking at him some days I would even say that he's in the prime of his life right now in some ways. He's certainly in tip-top physical and mental shape and is certainly showing no inclination to willingly head into a "retirement" mindset. There's no reason to believe that he doesn't have many more healthy and active years ahead of him to go.

The only certainty, as is the case with all things in life, is that time soldiers on regardless of where you are in the grand scheme of things. As is with opportunities, if you don't hold on to and cherish the treasured moments in life, you might just find them slipping through your fingers in the blink of an eye.

At the end of yet another year, and after spending nearly an entire year mired in my own personal entanglements, I find myself musing upon Dante and his irreplacable role in my life, the place in my heart that is singularly occupied by him and him alone. As I become increasingly aware of the ticking timeline that is his life, I find myself facing new questions that I don't necessarily have the answers to, yet, or ever; questions that I don't necessarily want to face.

And I find myself ever even more in awe and appreciation of the richness, the joys and the meaningful moments that he brings to my life.

Whatever lies ahead, I just know that next year will be another wonderful year for Dante and myself: there simply hasn't been a year, a moment, with Dante, that hasn't been good and meaningful in many ways.

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL -- you're never truly alone or wanting of love, affection and loyalty with a dog by your side.

2011, it's been great. 2012, ready or not, HERE WE COME!!!