I just love stories about dogs who lived too long. So here's mine:
My grandma had a dachshund (weiner dog) that lived to be around 19. His name was Butch. Butch was ornery even as a young pup, and I remember times as a child when my sister and I had to run and jump on our grandma's bed to flee his bite. When he got old, things got a little easier. He lost most of his teeth, which in the past made him the most formidable. His tail began to go crooked, and soon his back began to arch like an angry cat. Of course, he was much slower at that point, so when anyone heard the "click click click" sound of his claws, the old fear was calmed by the knowledge that Butch had been reduced to such a sight.
Near the end of his life, his eyes took on a blue hue, so he probably didn't have the best vision. Needless to say, no one was too shocked when we learned that he'd gone to doggy heaven - or in more practical terms, the backyard. He was replaced by a poodle soon after. He would have really hated that poodle.
My grandma had a dachshund (weiner dog) that lived to be around 19. His name was Butch. Butch was ornery even as a young pup, and I remember times as a child when my sister and I had to run and jump on our grandma's bed to flee his bite. When he got old, things got a little easier. He lost most of his teeth, which in the past made him the most formidable. His tail began to go crooked, and soon his back began to arch like an angry cat. Of course, he was much slower at that point, so when anyone heard the "click click click" sound of his claws, the old fear was calmed by the knowledge that Butch had been reduced to such a sight.
Near the end of his life, his eyes took on a blue hue, so he probably didn't have the best vision. Needless to say, no one was too shocked when we learned that he'd gone to doggy heaven - or in more practical terms, the backyard. He was replaced by a poodle soon after. He would have really hated that poodle.
