cw: pet death.
(If you missed yesterday’s post, Ellie died yesterday.)
Every time someone set off fireworks last night, I thought about how Ellie used to be so scared of them when she was younger. She got used to them eventually, but the 4th was a tough time for her. In her last years, Ellie had gotten to be an extremely chill doggo. Arya would go out on his adventures, and then come back to be inspected by Ellie, bringing back the news of the neighborhood. This video is from a few weeks ago.
I’ve been trying to think about whether we want another dog. I think yes, at some point, maybe two of them to keep each other company. It’d be good for me and Kevin to have a reason to get up and walk them a couple times / day, and if we stay in the area when we downsize, we were thinking we might try to move west to a small house bordering the forest preserve. (If anyone reading this has such a house and might be looking to sell in 5-10 years, keep us in mind!) Long walks in the woods with doggos seems like a good plan for our 60s and 70s.
But I was looking up pet lifespans, and realized we got really lucky with Ellie living 18 years — most dogs, it seems are in the 8-13 year range. That just seems brutal; not sure I can cope. Someone should have designed dogs better than that.
Apparently when you get a parrot, you should immediately start thinking of a succession plan for who will take over care, because they’re so long-lived. I’m not going to get a parrot, but today, I can see the appeal.