10, it's a magic number.
Ten years ago a litter of puppies was born in Indiana.
And one of them became mine.
Not a big deal. Surely - But I’ve had a run of “bad luck” when it comes to having a senior dog. In fact, I’ve never had one.
I re-homed Ruben when he was close to turning eight; 18 months later he died of cancer in his new home, just a bit after his ninth birthday. Yes, he wasn’t with me, but I still very much considered him my dog.
Cookie, my Dalmatian was in her ninth year when kidney issues and continued seizures from her epilepsy had us making the decision to let her go.
My first dog, Shelby was adopted, but we’re fairly certain she was 9-ish when she had a stroke one summer and my Dad found her under a bush in the yard.
One dog dying at 9 isn’t unusual. Two could be considered a coincidence; three is just scary.
So this week I “knock on wood” and declare Razor to be my first senior dog.
Razor is here in spite of me, or anything I’ve done to give him a good long life. He’s always thrown himself 100% into everything and lives his life like each moment is the last best moment. It’s something I love about him. He also has WONDERFUL genes with his father Tarzan living well into his 14th year. Not sure about his Mom, but his cousin Cole has an aunt of Razor’s as his Dam and Cole is lovely and vibrant at well over 12 years old (right Lori? He’s more than 12? )
Each moment I get with Razor in these senior times feels like a special treat. He’s loud, fun, excitable, sometimes grumpy, SOOOO loving, happy to be a farm dog in his golden years and still loves to run a bit of agility when we get the chance (minus weaves, which seem to bother him).
He’s had plenty of “ouchies” in his life. I often think he and I have that in common. Both of us nursing some sore spot or whatever on a pretty regular basis.
I remember so clearly G asking me when Raze was a puppy “how old will he be when he starts to settle down???” Ha! 10?? Ahhahaha. I think at the time I guessed 4, but that never happened. He’s still the first dog to hop up and follow me if I leave the room. He still would go for a jog at 1 a.m. if I asked him to.
He’s most comfortable out running free and sniffing at critter holes. His prey drive just seems like it’s GROWING with age, not slowing down at all.
A few weeks back I shared with Heidi another thing Razor and I have in common. We both come off loud, strong and brave, but we really can be big chickens - we just hide it well.
As we age, we both also have problems with change. Razor used to be so good about going anywhere, doing whatever and moving from place to place. We moved to April and Tony’s when he was 1.5… he totally took it in stride. We moved to Multnomah Village a year later = no issue. When Tammy moved in with her dogs, he was ALL about it and even played with Fred a tiny bit before giving up on it.
The move to Tigard seemed like it wasn’t too tough on him either, but I don’t recall that very clearly. This most recent move was hard on him, and he still worries sometimes that I’m leaving him for good when I step out of a room, or head off to do something.
I didn’t think it was possible, but I’m loving him more and more as he ages. I blame it on Blaze. She was the first really “older” dog I’d ever spent plenty of time around and she made me see just how wonderful they can be. I see Razor with new eyes and truly he’s just exactly who he’s meant to be.
Happy Birthday big red loud guy. I’m the luckiest human around that you came to be my best buddy, my Putz, my partner and The Daze.
Here’s to MANY more years together. Come on… I need an old dog of my own, and we’re just getting started.
Please note: MOST of the amazing pics in this video were taken by Heather. There's a few by me, and a few from Tammy. But it helps when you have a dog THIS HANDSOME to have a dear friend who knows how to capture the handsome. And Heather certainly does. Thanks again pal.
And one of them became mine.
Not a big deal. Surely - But I’ve had a run of “bad luck” when it comes to having a senior dog. In fact, I’ve never had one.
I re-homed Ruben when he was close to turning eight; 18 months later he died of cancer in his new home, just a bit after his ninth birthday. Yes, he wasn’t with me, but I still very much considered him my dog.
Cookie, my Dalmatian was in her ninth year when kidney issues and continued seizures from her epilepsy had us making the decision to let her go.
My first dog, Shelby was adopted, but we’re fairly certain she was 9-ish when she had a stroke one summer and my Dad found her under a bush in the yard.
One dog dying at 9 isn’t unusual. Two could be considered a coincidence; three is just scary.
So this week I “knock on wood” and declare Razor to be my first senior dog.
Click to viewRazor is here in spite of me, or anything I’ve done to give him a good long life. He’s always thrown himself 100% into everything and lives his life like each moment is the last best moment. It’s something I love about him. He also has WONDERFUL genes with his father Tarzan living well into his 14th year. Not sure about his Mom, but his cousin Cole has an aunt of Razor’s as his Dam and Cole is lovely and vibrant at well over 12 years old (right Lori? He’s more than 12? )
Each moment I get with Razor in these senior times feels like a special treat. He’s loud, fun, excitable, sometimes grumpy, SOOOO loving, happy to be a farm dog in his golden years and still loves to run a bit of agility when we get the chance (minus weaves, which seem to bother him).
He’s had plenty of “ouchies” in his life. I often think he and I have that in common. Both of us nursing some sore spot or whatever on a pretty regular basis.
I remember so clearly G asking me when Raze was a puppy “how old will he be when he starts to settle down???” Ha! 10?? Ahhahaha. I think at the time I guessed 4, but that never happened. He’s still the first dog to hop up and follow me if I leave the room. He still would go for a jog at 1 a.m. if I asked him to.
He’s most comfortable out running free and sniffing at critter holes. His prey drive just seems like it’s GROWING with age, not slowing down at all.
A few weeks back I shared with Heidi another thing Razor and I have in common. We both come off loud, strong and brave, but we really can be big chickens - we just hide it well.
As we age, we both also have problems with change. Razor used to be so good about going anywhere, doing whatever and moving from place to place. We moved to April and Tony’s when he was 1.5… he totally took it in stride. We moved to Multnomah Village a year later = no issue. When Tammy moved in with her dogs, he was ALL about it and even played with Fred a tiny bit before giving up on it.
The move to Tigard seemed like it wasn’t too tough on him either, but I don’t recall that very clearly. This most recent move was hard on him, and he still worries sometimes that I’m leaving him for good when I step out of a room, or head off to do something.
I didn’t think it was possible, but I’m loving him more and more as he ages. I blame it on Blaze. She was the first really “older” dog I’d ever spent plenty of time around and she made me see just how wonderful they can be. I see Razor with new eyes and truly he’s just exactly who he’s meant to be.
Happy Birthday big red loud guy. I’m the luckiest human around that you came to be my best buddy, my Putz, my partner and The Daze.
Here’s to MANY more years together. Come on… I need an old dog of my own, and we’re just getting started.
Please note: MOST of the amazing pics in this video were taken by Heather. There's a few by me, and a few from Tammy. But it helps when you have a dog THIS HANDSOME to have a dear friend who knows how to capture the handsome. And Heather certainly does. Thanks again pal.