Sam is at the vet's office this morning, having his teeth cleaned. I signed all sorts of release paperwork and provided an emrgency phone number, all pretty standard stuff. After a quick scan of his medical record, the tech asked if she could also run some bloodwork on him first. "Sure, but why?"
"Oh, he's an older dog, and we want to make sure that he's heathy enough for the anesthesia."
It truly bothers me that my beloved dog is now considered an "older" dog. I don't deny that he is, but the years have slipped by far too quickly. Somehow it doesn't bother me that I have relatives who are "older" - probably of a comparable age to Sam, really, and every bit as active and happy with life as he.
The day may yet come when he needs some sort of medication or special care, all of which I'll willingly provide. I just hope that it's not too soon.