NaBloPoMo DAY 19:
Henry is having a midlife crisis. There’s no mistaking it.
For starters, he’s reverted to his puppy years, no doubt remembering the months he spent in a child care center where he’d see infants using pacifiers and started using them, too. Here he is again, a feeble attempt to relive his youth.
For this Cavalier King Charles Spaniel who descends from royalty is now 7 1/2 years old. And you know what that means in human years, don’t you? ( I can’t say it for fear Henry might overhear me.)
Being that age didn’t bother him in the least, not until I took him to the vet for his annual checkup.
The technician took his vitals, to make sure he was alive and all, and then he said this to me, which Henry couldn’t help but overhear:
“It’s been a long time since the doctor has done a blood panel on Henry. He recommends that, given Henry’s age, we do a senior panel on him.”
That was all Henry needed to hear. SENIOR??
Henry’s face twisted into all sorts of contortions, awashed as he was in absolute terror. Senior, indeed!
The shock caused Henry, who had covered his eyes with his right paw, to fall flat on his back. Oliver Twist dove under him, in an attempt to grab Henry’s tail and suddenly began gnawing on it. Henry, in his apoplectic state, didn’t even seem to notice.
The doctor then entered the room with a needle in tow, which was enough to cause Henry to pass out. The doctor soon was able to procure the senior blood panel and we headed home. In the car Henry finally spoke.
“I’M A SENIOR?! Why, Cook, did you not tell me??”
I remained silent. What was there to say? Oliver gnawed on a dog biscuit he found under one of the seats.
And Henry fell into a funk.
“Where did my youth go?” He lamented. “Once, I was brimming with hope for shiny, royal future. I, a strapping cavalier of a dog, ready to make my mark on the world as a canine destined for grandeur! Yet, here I am, asleep at the wheel as you Americans are wont to say. In other words, I’ve been napping my life away. A luxurious, glorious nap, mind you, but a nap just the same.”
And with that, he went into his box of old toys from his puppy days, which had been gathering dust, and rummaged through it.
“What are you looking for,” I asked with a sigh.
Oliver tried to stick his nose into the box to see what all the fuss was about.
“There, I found it!” Henry said triumphantly.
And that’s how the pacifier ended back in his mouth. Good grief.
Good news. As soon as NaBloPoMo is over, I’m burning all my posts for the month, which will make a heck of a bonfire!