Down to the Last Dog

We may be down to getting the last dog we will ever own after Molly dies.

Oh, there might be two more, depending on how long the dog(s) live, as well as how long we live.

Molly is nine, and hobbling pretty badly. She's having surgery on her gums Friday. She has seizures. Maybe she will make it to ten, but I doubt she'll see eleven.

We have talked about the next dog. We are probably going to get another Bull Mastiff. They are  not as hard to take care of, being a "door mat" dog.

They live around ten years.

That would put Husband at seventy-six or seven. Will we want another dog to take care of by then? I don't know.

And cats: well, if Eli lives 20 years, I'll be seventy-seven. Will I want another cat?

See, I can't imagine living without a dog and a cat.

But then again, I could have never imagined talking about seeing the end of my life in terms of the number of dogs I might live long enough to own, either.

Do you think about this when you are even in your forties? Probably not.

It makes me sad, thinking I might be at a point in my late life where I feel I can no longer take care of a dog and/or cat.

Because they have always taken care of me.