The Love Of An Old Dog

In the  right now is an old, arthritic, nearly blind, nearly deaf dog named Josie.

Animal Control Officer Chris Martel found the old girl in a briar patch on Raymond Hill Road. A neighbor had heard an animal crying out early in the morning, barking or yelping. The noise continued for hours, and the neighbor called Martel.

Josie was stuck in the briars, covered with mud, nearly dead. Martel brought her to the shelter, began tending to her skin issues, pinned an old sweatshirt around her for warmth, and gave her food and a soft bed.

For days, all that Josie did was eat and sleep. She must have thought she was in heaven, in her little concrete cage, with the cold floor and the cold walls and the wind creeping in the dog door.

For most pets, the conditions would be austere. But for Josie, it's different. She has food! And a soft bed! A heatlamp! And she has the attention of Martel, too. It must be heaven.

There's no telling what Josie was like as a young dog. Maybe she was mean. Maybe she was a fighter. It doesn't seem possible, but you never know.

The point is that now, she is an old girl, and she is dear and full of love, and in need of a place to live out the rest of her days.

I have had old dogs, lots of old dogs. There is something about them that reaches into my heart, grabs me by the soul, and will not let go. They've lived their lives, they have loved their people, guarded their homes, done everything we've asked of them. They've given us their loyalty and their love, and expected only the most meager of responses from us - food, water and the occasional pat on the head.

Judging from Josie now, that was what her life was. Not the life of a mean dog. Not the life of a biter. The life of a dog who had a family, and who was loved, or at least regarded.

And yet, her people abandoned her.

So yes, she's far from perfect. She has some skin issues. She can't hear too well, or see too well. She probably needs help getting up and going out, and if she doesn't need help now, she will, soon enough.

All too often in this country, when something gets old, we cease to value it. That goes for people as well as dogs. And yet, so often, age confers a depth, a patina, a comprehension that can't be balanced by the sparkly freshness of "new" and "young."

If you take Josie home, you probably won't have her for long. But you will give her a loving place in which to live out her days. You will treasure her, and she will treasure you.

Today is my husband's birthday. He is 65, formally "old." Formally "retired." If we didn't already have blind dogs and deaf dogs and enough dogs, I'd go to the shelter myself and get Josie for Peter. But I can't.

What I can do is send out my heartfelt plea that some caring person in Montville or another town will see Josie, and read her story, and offer her a forever home.