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Flash is visiting with us this weekend.  And Flash is, among other descriptors, an old dog.

He’s so sweet.  A golden retriever.  Age 12.

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Flash lying on the wood floor with his sweet grey face

I’ve never really had an old dog myself.  I’ve taken care of many old dogs, but none of my own have really ever made it to an age that could be considered ‘old’.  Niche made it to a little over 10 years.   His last 6 months, cancer made him seem ‘old’ very quickly, but it didn’t feel like old age old dog if that makes any sense.  All of the others have passed earlier in their lives.  But I imagine Flash is giving me an idea of Tom in 5 years as they have very similar personalities.

Helping him get up from his naps.

Making sure he doesn’t slip in the snow.

Moving area rugs to give him better traction.

Encouraging him to eat all of his dinner.

Searching the house to figure out where he is taking his latest nap.

Inability to resist the urge to give him extra pets and belly rubs.

Caving to his adorable requests for more treats.

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Flash & Zora waiting for a special treat.  How can I say no to those faces?

Despite the extra worry, I’m looking forward to having an old dog of my own some day.

Flash sure is a sweetheart.  I feel privileged that his owners like him to stay with us.  We love their sweet old soul.

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Flash lying on the floor with me petting his head

 

 

 

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