Old Men and Dogs

My friend Orley used to collect photos of old men and dogs. He was planning to use them as writing triggers. I woke up at 4 a.m. thinking about old men and dogs.

Aging isn't something people have been doing for very long. A century ago or less, teeth lasted till the end, and you didn't have to worry about failing eyesight, unexplained bruises, insomnia or exhaustion. Back then you died when you reached the half century mark. Sleeplessness (and everything else) became non-issues.

Recently I listened to men waxing nostalgic for the good old days ... not the days when they were in the army or on the football field, but the halcyon days when they spent their days in university classrooms and their evenings in coffee houses at tables lit by candles in Chianti bottles. It was a time when it was exciting to be sharing ideas no one had ever thought before.

I t made me think about what I miss about youth. I think it is the energy, more than anything else. I used to be able to take physical and mental well being for granted, and I could focus for long periods of time. Now I feel scattered much of the time.

The latest on-line version of CARP magazine had an article on forgetfulness. Apparently ADD meds can alleviate some symptoms of brain aging, but it also helps to get enough sleep. I never get enough sleep, and most people my age seem to have the same problem. What do you do at 4 a.m. if you are tossing and turning? I get up, make tea and start my day. I read things like the CARP on-line magazine and any unopened mail.

The Lee Valley catalogue arrived yesterday ... the garden edition. I lusted for the beautiful pruning shears which I knew would be well crafted machines that work properly ... or a spade that actually cuts into soil. I am one of these people who THINKS it would be lovely to be a gardener, especially when I see what my neighbours on the lake do with their landscaping or what Rowboat Flo does with her vegetable plot, but I know that the tools will more likely join the gardening gloves and sit unused in some dark corner. Maybe I WILL buy a decent wheel barrow though ... and the old fashioned rain barrel pump is lovely. But maybe sanity will prevail and I will buy a pair of the lightweight ice walkers instead. They are on sale.

I already have two sets of ice walkers, one on the boots I keep at the front door and one on my other pair. These could be the ones that I carry with me in the car or my back pack. Some people have reading glasses stashed everywhere. I have ice walkers.

Living out here has its challenges and one of them is ice. When the water pours down off the mountain it makes skating rinks of the roads in its path. When I have one dog on a leash I have trouble staying upright. Two can be treacherous. I have even managed to flip out with no dog to pull me over. I envy Kenya's four feet. She slides too but is always able to maintain her dignity and recover before she ends up on her back.

Yesterday when Kenya and I crossed the lake to get to Remi's house, the snow was so wet and sticky it felt as if I were wading through sludge. I didn't need ice walkers, but I wished I had worn my snow shoes. Two years ago I could swim across that lake faster than I walked yesterday.

Remi (the ragamuffin pup), Kenya, and I decided to go up into the woods to play. It was great. We found places where the stream was running noisily under the snow, and the dogs worked hard to make their way through the sodden drifts as they chased sticks and one another. By the time we took Remi home he looked like a snow dog, his leg curls trapping a dozen snowballs.

Today Kenya and I are going in to the city. I am really excited. I haven't been off the lake for a couple of weeks. My post tomorrow may be about something other than snow, dogs, and less-than- graceful aging.