Hanks: Old dogs and old folks
Back in the ‘80s, the 1980s that is, we had an old dog of undetermined origin wander onto our ranch headquarters. He looked to be a cross of some sort of spaniel and setter.
He was honey colored with a white muzzle and big brown sad, drooping eyes. We, of course fed him and made him a place of comfort in the barn.
While trying to come up with a name for our new companion, one of the boys said, “let’s call him Moses.” Ah haaaa, the perfect name, Moses.
Moses seemed to enjoy all of the attention he was getting and we wondered where in the world he came from. We decided that someone must have just dropped him off out in the country because maybe they just couldn’t deal with him being in the last stages of his life.
He didn’t live long after that, maybe two to three weeks the way I remember it. We gave him a nice funeral and buried him in the horse pasture as he was always around the horses and they just sort of took him in.
I know when I was younger I would let some old folks get under my skin. “What’s the matter with that old geezer?” I would ask myself. “Am I gonna’ be like that when I get old?
I don’t think so,” was how I would settle the question. “Nope, not me, I ain’t gonna be short-tempered, grumpy and bossy like I just don’t give a darn.”
Now that the time in question is upon me I have to sit back and take inventory. I might be a little short-tempered, but not grumpy or bossy, or at least I don’t think I am.
I will admit to misplacing my “give a hoot” from time to time but that just happens to be a fact of life when you get older.
I do love life and being around folks that I enjoy. As I’ve said before my ponies and I, old Howdy and Nugget are pretty good buds. I need to get out there and get both of them rode before we get too far into winter.
I have been pretty darn busy here at the ONO this summer and fall, but again I will admit to misplacing my “give a hoot” on occasion.
Getting old is an honor and a blessing if we take in the situation in Vegas recently. So many young folks slaughtered and wounded physically and mentally for many, many years to come.
Those that were killed will never get to be old folks like me. Their parents while growing older will most likely live a life of heartbreak, sadness and always trying to fill that terrible void.
I think of “Little Miss Martha” and how she told me once years ago that she thought living to the age of 77 would be enough time on this earth for her. She missed it by 19 years.
It’s hard to imagine at times when I look around at the way the world of ours is shaping up that I would want to be a part of it in another 20 to 30 years.
I have to remember that the younger folks don’t really have any comparison to different times so it’s just “normal” living to them.
Here’s one thing I would hope would not happen: I would hope nobody drops me off in the country to find a new home when that time comes.
Then again, it might not be that bad and after all, I would be in the country … right?
Stay tuned, check yer cinch on occasion, remember we weren’t put here just to take up space, so do SOMETHING. SOMETHING GOOD. And I’ll c. y’all, all y’all.❖
Start a dialogue, stay on topic and be civil.
If you don't follow the rules, your comment may be deleted.
User Legend: Moderator Trusted User