First…I don’t think of “45” as mid-life; that would mean I’d have to live to the age of 90. As recently as this morning I had the feeling that I wouldn’t make it to the age of 50. Most prognosticators have me passing from this world somewhere in my 70’s, though the majority in the office pool (where I work) have me dying in my 49th year…during a robbery. I have money on my 47th year, so every year after that…bonus!
Some folks speak of a mid-life crisis that occurs around this time in a person’s life. Some men get a girlfriend. Some men buy a motorcycle or sports car, while others leave their families and get hair implants…or maybe a combination of several of the above. As for yours truly…I’m thinking of getting a puppy in 2011. Honestly…what gives you such unconditional love as a puppy? It loves you no matter your financial standing, car you drive, house you live in, race, nationality or political/religious convictions (if you’re a Methodist…so is your dog-though try to get a dog baptized that isn’t a Labrador and you’re asking for trouble.) My wife (or better half as most call her) doesn’t like the idea of me getting a puppy. I answer back with my best argument “Oh YEAH?” (it’s quick and nonsensical-buying me the time to exit the room). Besides that, a dog in the house would make our resident cat shape up her act. If our cat had fingers on her paws, she’d constantly be giving me her middle finger (here’s what I think of pooping in a box, ya jerk!) Would my dog do that? Hell no! A dog would defend my honor, chasing the belligerent feline from the room, out of my sight. (good dog…c’ mer boy).
My daughters used to sit at my knee, begging me to spin them another yarn from my childhood of growing up on a small hog farm in eastern Iowa, but they’re in their estrogen-laced teenaged zombie years now. It’s no fun for anyone, but at least a puppy would be happy to see me, and wouldn’t tell me that I have “coffee breath” or that I smell like an “old man”.
Yes….a puppy in 2011. A puppy indeed.