She an I and Old Age

 

Nearly seventy-five and still alive.

Well, nearly alive, not the man I

used to be.

No more travel, no

more partying, no women or booze.

Aches and pain, arthritic frame,

scatted thoughts to wrack the brain.

No more plans for the future. Each

day, one at a time, that’s what’s

left. No regrets, I’ve done more

than most in my time.

Have had my small dog for going

on eight years. She can sometimes

be a pesky little beast. Barks a lot

at any noise she hears inside and

out of the apartment where we

live.

She watches TV with me, and

goers crazy, yapping at every

animal she sees. Can’t break

her of it; that’s the way she’s

always been.

She has been through a lot

of physical changes with me,

yet sees me no differently

than she did the first day

we got together. That’s the

beauty of having a dog as

a constant and faithful

companion.

She accepts me for who I am

no matter what. My lap has

always afforded her a safe

and comfortable place to rest.

She’d have that and me no other

way.

I do know to keep the remote

handy. When those terrible cats,

dogs and horses appear on

TV, a quick reflexive switch

of the station and her barking

subsides. We know each other

well, she and I.

And I’d have to say, I’m still

pretty quick on the button

for a crippled old guy.

                   -30-

Chris Hanch 12-13-2021