Should Seniors Adopt Puppies?
Several years ago, my dog Missy died. She’d been with me for 16 years, rescued when she was about a year old. Before her was another that had been with me 16 years as well. After 32 years of living with dogs, I decided that I was too old to start all over again with a new puppy and took a break.
It wasn’t that I couldn’t take care of one. And I knew that I would miss the happy companionship it would bring me. The big issue, so it seemed at the time, was that I was pushing 70 years of age, and a little math told me that I’d be in my late 80’s when it would be time for it to check out. Having lost my last two, remembering the sadness of their final years when I could see the signs that their death was near, and knowing that my own could happen at any time, I decided that I’d spare my 80+ year-old self from revisiting that kind of shattering heartache. So, though I missed having one, I hung tough and remained dogless.
But there was always that little twinge of emptiness I carried. And there was a practical aspect that affected my lifestyle. You see, I am a serious gardener, and my dogs were very useful in my work. With them patrolling the yard, I never had a critter issue. They chased the birds out of the blueberry patch, attacked rodents, squirrels and gophers that always beat me to the fruit and vegetables, and best of all, kept the deer from destroying my plantings of 30+ years. After Missy passed, all her old victims regrouped with a vengeance. They descended on my yard seeking retribution for all the indignities they had suffered at her teeth and paws.
I should have broken down and adopted a pup. My other dogs were rescues, barely out of puppyhood, and I had always wanted to raise a new-born. Would she be like the rescues? Or would starting at that special age make a difference in her personality, in our relationship? Well, I was too hard-headed to find out. Instead of sending out the troop, feeling too old to adopt a pup, I hung tough and went to war with the critters myself.
This attitude prevailed for a few years. Then one day I saw a fawn munching in the wayback. I chased him away, but he- and his mother- would return every day after that to feast on just about everything that was growing. I had to get rid of them, and tried everything I could think of, but I stayed firmly against getting another dog. Nothing I did worked. The two deer made a grocery out of my yard. But I still wouldn’t adopt the perfect solution.
This went on for a few months. Then something unexpected happened, and everything went topsy-turvy: I fell hard for the fawn, made excuses for his appetite and the state of the gardens, and decided to make him my pet, my puppy surrogate. But things don’t aways work out the way we expect them to.
“A Puppy and Her Old Man” came from this experience. If you’ve been hesitant as I was to adopt a dog, if you miss the joy and usefulness of their company but feel the time to have one has passed you by, this story might make you reconsider.
Gene Burshuliak
Winter ‘24
It wasn’t that I couldn’t take care of one. And I knew that I would miss the happy companionship it would bring me. The big issue, so it seemed at the time, was that I was pushing 70 years of age, and a little math told me that I’d be in my late 80’s when it would be time for it to check out. Having lost my last two, remembering the sadness of their final years when I could see the signs that their death was near, and knowing that my own could happen at any time, I decided that I’d spare my 80+ year-old self from revisiting that kind of shattering heartache. So, though I missed having one, I hung tough and remained dogless.
But there was always that little twinge of emptiness I carried. And there was a practical aspect that affected my lifestyle. You see, I am a serious gardener, and my dogs were very useful in my work. With them patrolling the yard, I never had a critter issue. They chased the birds out of the blueberry patch, attacked rodents, squirrels and gophers that always beat me to the fruit and vegetables, and best of all, kept the deer from destroying my plantings of 30+ years. After Missy passed, all her old victims regrouped with a vengeance. They descended on my yard seeking retribution for all the indignities they had suffered at her teeth and paws.
I should have broken down and adopted a pup. My other dogs were rescues, barely out of puppyhood, and I had always wanted to raise a new-born. Would she be like the rescues? Or would starting at that special age make a difference in her personality, in our relationship? Well, I was too hard-headed to find out. Instead of sending out the troop, feeling too old to adopt a pup, I hung tough and went to war with the critters myself.
This attitude prevailed for a few years. Then one day I saw a fawn munching in the wayback. I chased him away, but he- and his mother- would return every day after that to feast on just about everything that was growing. I had to get rid of them, and tried everything I could think of, but I stayed firmly against getting another dog. Nothing I did worked. The two deer made a grocery out of my yard. But I still wouldn’t adopt the perfect solution.
This went on for a few months. Then something unexpected happened, and everything went topsy-turvy: I fell hard for the fawn, made excuses for his appetite and the state of the gardens, and decided to make him my pet, my puppy surrogate. But things don’t aways work out the way we expect them to.
“A Puppy and Her Old Man” came from this experience. If you’ve been hesitant as I was to adopt a dog, if you miss the joy and usefulness of their company but feel the time to have one has passed you by, this story might make you reconsider.
Gene Burshuliak
Winter ‘24