Friday, July 3, 2009
Happy Birthday, Zoe!
Mom says today is Zoe’s birthday. She is thirteen years old! Zoe had a big breakfast and smeared turkey and bacon all over her nose. She spent some time licking it off, but she wouldn’t let me help. Mom says it’s her birthday, her turkey and bacon, and her nose. So I had to sit and watch. Jib sat and watched, too. We both drooled.
Then Mom took us all for a walk and Zoe and I were tethered together as usual. Zoe sniffed when I wanted to pee and I sniffed when she wanted to pee. Mom says we have to learn to pee and sniff together so I won’t be dragged everywhere. But Zoe is old now. She doesn’t drag me like she used to. She walks by my side and doesn’t forge ahead except when we first reach the end of the driveway. She doesn’t tell Jib to be bad and she lines out when Mom says, “Line out!” when our leashes get tangled around everybody’s legs.
Zoe runs in the back yard like she used to, but she doesn’t run as fast. Or as far. She doesn’t run down the fence line and across the back and down the other fence line like she used to. She starts to run that way, and when Jib takes off and tries to beat her to the fence, she ducks behind the bushes and watches Jib run all by himself. Her feet laugh at him and he barks when he sees her standing there.
She still plays Fun Police, though. When I grab Jib by his ruff and throw him on the grass, no matter where Zoe is, she comes running when she sees this. She breaks us up by running between me and Jib, and she barks at me and shoulders me away. Mom says she did this when Jib was a wee lad because she didn’t want the puppy to be mauled by me. But she still does it! And Jib is not a puppy and likes to be mauled by me. He asks for it. He really does.
Zoe is quite deaf, too. Mom has to go all the way into her dog house now and knock on the roof to wake Zoe up for breakfast. Before, if Mom so much as turned the doorknob on the back door, Zoe would pop up, wide awake. Zoe can’t hear Mom call her name, so Mom uses her hand and arm to call Zoe for supper, too. But Zoe has to be looking at Mom to see that it’s supper time. If she is looking at the neighborhood, Mom has to go up to her and tell her with her hands that it’s supper time. Then Zoe runs to her dog yard for her chicken thighs.
But Mom says Zoe is doing very well for an old lady. She never limps, although she walks slowly for the first few steps in the morning. She still romps with Jib and me and she loves going for walks. She isn’t so keen on eating like she used to be, but Mom feeds her all sorts of things she doesn’t feed me. And Zoe still doesn’t like baths and she still loves to chase squirrels and she is happy all the time. Mom says she’s still a love and a Siberian and we should be so lucky when we are as old as Zoe.
Happy birthday, Zoe! I hope you share your supper with me.