This little guy just turned sixteen years old. I can still remember the day I brought him home. He was just a puppy that I could hold in my hands. The years passed and he grew up, gaining strength, speed, wit, and perhaps even a touch of my personality. Pugs are prone to obesity, but this little guy was a paragon of fitness and an active lifestyle.
But no amount of exercise and tenacity can stop the march of time. At sixteen years old, things are a little different from when he was younger. His hind legs aren't as strong as they used to be, and his vision isn't so great. Last year another dog attacked him and bit his tail, leading to most of it getting amputated. He still walks on his own, but hardly runs anymore.
The thing is, either he doesn't know he's old, or he refuses to accept it. Lots of old dogs settle into a leisurely lifestyle as they fade into their golden years. This little guy is still trying to act like he's six. He tries to climb the stairs, even though he usually can only make it halfway up. He still wants to go on long walks, even though he's only good for a few hundred feet. He still tries to be an active dog, even though his body can no longer keep up with his will.
Sixteen years is a long time for a little guy like him. I want to believe that he's going to live forever, but I know that's not true. One day he will either pass on his own or he will reach the point where I'll have to make a decision I desperately don't want to make. Until that happens, though, I will treasure the remaining days he has and remember fondly all the memories we made over the years.
Happy birthday little guy. You'll never know how much you mean to me.
Yes, I know these feelings very well. Mango is 15, and much of what you say here describes her as well. Except for the "trying to act like [she's] six" part. She's pretty happy to limit her existence to sleeping and eating.
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