My dog Cookie is 13 years old, which moves her into the stage of life we call Senior Dogitude. Well, maybe that’s not the precise veterinary term.
But it’s closer than the other phrase I am using for her current status: Weird Old Lady.
She’s forgetful. Often she’ll stand at the back door, asking to go out and, upon getting her wish, do one of two things: Turn around and go back to her bed, or go out onto the back porch and stand there looking around until you remind her to do some business.
Then she gets this “Oh, yeah, now I remember” look on her face, completes the mission and then finds a million things to distract her on the way back to the house.
She’s possessive. Her water dish is her favorite thing in the world, and she is not at all happy that the two cats, Charlie and Maynard, have decided Cookie’s water is the best in the house (with the possible exception of the drips coming from the leaky faucet in the bathroom).