According to an arbitrary date set by a vet, our Roma turned 14 last Monday. You may now refer to her as the Venerable Roma. Despite a few close calls—illnesses and run-ins with cars and rat poison—I knew she'd make it this far. I've been carrying the number 14 around in my head for years. I'd be walking her on a street in, say, 1998 or 2001, and I'd calculate how much time we had left. "Okay, she's 3 now, so that means we have 11 years left. Okay, she's 7 now; that means we have 7 more left." Now she's 14, and I can't think that way anymore. There are no more T minus zero years. And I don't want to set any more goals for her because, as I know now in my own senescence, that life is not a race. As you know, our Roma has had an excellent life and will continue to do so. My only regrets, of course, are about the moments when I was not attentive enough or when I got mad at her for doing the naughty things that dogs often do—running away, not listening, rolling in or eating the wrong thing. Those moments stand out despite the nearly five thousand good days we have had together. Roma has been my good girl for 13 of her 14 years. She has often been my best reason for getting up in the morning. I could not have wished for a better dog.
And so, my friends, I think it is time for me to take a little break from our blog. I have been working long hours recently, and I have felt a waning in extra creative juices as well as in my powers of Dog Park observation. At the moment, I don't have anything compelling to add to the Story of Dog Park as we head into a rainy fall. Thanks so much to everyone who read and especially to those who made comments online or in person. This blog kept me (and the Dog Parkist) going during months of unemployment and a brutally hot summer. Thanks again. Roma and Muzzy and I will definitely see you at the Dog Park! Ta!
-z
Posts
