LITTLE WHITE DOGS

 

Have you noticed all the old ladies walking little white dogs?  I am one of those. I am an old lady who walks a little white dog. Women over sixty-five years of age simply do not walk Great Danes. We lose some muscle strength, even those of us who lift weights and if even the best behaved large dog suddenly decides to chase a squirrel. Well. Can you spell trouble?  A younger (at the time did not even qualify as a senior) dear friend of mine suffered a broken hip when her German Shepard decided very suddenly to take a different route. And left her on the ground.  

So, little dogs, that for some reason are usually white in color, are the dogs older, wiser women chose. Among the popular breeds are Maltese, Bichon Frise’, West Highland Terrier and the poodle. (Please do not be offended if I did not mention your breed. Shih Tzu. I am a dog person, partial to them all!)

My little white dog is Charlie. He began as a black and white spotted puppy but he is a Havanese and many lose their color as they age. (Sort of like us.) The black has faded away. These days he’s pretty much beige and white. In the past I usually provided homes for rescue dogs but my partner at the time of Charlie insisted we know from the start how the dog was trained. Charlie is a clown and at six years shows no signs of slowing down. He loves to play and he loves to snuggle. He personifies lapdog. He is the best companion I’ve ever had and that’s saying something. I’ve been married three times and been involved in two loving relationships.

In conversations with fabulous older women, I’ve heard them insist that a little white dog is superior to having a husband in our so called golden-years. It’s been pointed out to me that most little dogs are great company. They are loyal. They don’t eat a lot. They don’t talk back or insist on being in charge of the television remote. These sweet dogs warn you when someone is at the door and might very well attack that someone to protect you.

My Charlie has learned to tell me when my phone is ringing…or the text sound blings. I think those self-taught skills qualify him as a support dog. He certainly supports me.  Except when I’m singing. I like to sing around the house even though I can’t carry a tune. When I start to sing, Charlie starts barking. I believe he thinks I’m in pain.

But our dogs are more than sweet companions for our aging years. They reduce our stress, help lower blood pressure, give us purpose, and increase our physical activity…those little walks we take provide awesome exercise.

The next time you see a beautiful older woman walking a little white dog, smile. And the next time you feel like you need a friend, there’s one waiting for you at your nearest animal shelter. Get a little dog of any stripe or color!

 

 

A LITTLE WHITE LIE

 Several years ago my friend Dee called me. “Brittany cut five years off her age.”

Brittany was a sometime actress who had been in our broadcast classes during college.

I thought about it for half a second. “Well I guess that’s what you have to do when you’re in show business,” I replied. Attempting to be kind.

“I think we have to take five years off our ages too so she won’t be thought a liar.”

“We’ll all be five years younger?”

“Right.” Dee said. I could actually hear her smile. “It’s the nicest thing we can do.” 

Or participating in a bit of chicanery.

Let’s face it, women especially, have been lying about their age since the beginning of time. Some using a younger number to feel better about themselves, thinking claiming youth makes them more attractive. Somehow. (I don’t understand this.) Some to land a role meant for a younger woman. And all sorts of reasons in between and beyond.

Is lying about one’s age deceitful? Yes. Plain and simple. But not the most damaging type of deceit. On a scale from one to ten it’s most likely a two. It’s more puzzling than deceitful. Why lie about your age?  Appearing younger is better? Afraid of ageism on a job interview? Wanting to seem wiser than most people at the same age? Or better preserved, if physical appearance is important.

I refused to shave those years off as the actress did. I’m a survivor and have been rather proud of my age and accomplishments. I’d made it through the unkind years. I don’t think Dee had anything to fib about age-wise either. In her seventies, she was still beautiful, still the beauty queen she’d been in college.

We all age differently. Some of us are old, very old at 70 years. Some of us are still working and enjoying life into our 80’s and 90’s. The brain power, the physical appearance, the emotional stability… are all very different. Why? Is it genetics, a life of healthy diet and regular exercise… or that shot of bourbon my aunts enjoyed every night before bed? No one really knows. Yet.

More and more people are living well into their hundreds. (Not the amount of candles I care to blow out. If I had that much lung power!) Medical care has come a long way as well to contribute to our longevity. In 1929 my grandfather died at age 49 because he could not pass kidney stones and the doctors had no way to crush those stones at that time.

Fortunately, because I enjoy it, I’m still working in my eighties. (But at a way different, slower pace.) Over the years I’ve lost some brain cells -- and also some momentum. I would love to tell you that just a few years ago I operated at a genius level. But no. That would be a fabrication. My ego will tell me I was…I am a smart woman. However, in truth, even my common sense quotient, shaky at best in the good old days, is circling the drain more often on the best of these present days. Creatively, I’m on a roller-coaster trajectory.

More changes are coming. (Listen as if David Bowie’s 1972 hit “Ch-ch-changes” is playing in the back of your mind. “Turn and face the strange ch-ch- changes.”)

Aging is a one way street - and steers us mostly downhill. I hope I’ll know when to stop working and just smell the roses. Stop, pass the baton to a younger person and try my hand at watercolor painting. One of my friends is doing well with her canvas thanks to U-Tube instructions. 

Life is full of adventures I might enjoy given a chance. If my ego does not get in the way. It’s our egos we have to watch out for as we age. Our egos may convince us we’re irreplaceable and that’s a lie.

The biggest lie of them all. 

 

 

 

 

FAR AWAY PLACES PART TWO

 In my last post I talked about how much I love to travel. And then I traveled for the first time in a year. It only took 4 different plane trips and a day each coming and going. And crowds. Large crowds. A trip like that could be exhausting for anyone of any age.

I debated about wearing a mask. I have many never-worn masks from the days when masks were mandatory rather than a debate with oneself.  Now I wish I had used the mask that traveled in the bottom of my purse for the entire journey. I came home with a forty-eight hour “bug.”

I know. It could have been worse. I could have come home with Covid. I’m just sayin’, just recommending…a mask for travel in crowds for those of us whose immune system may not be what it once was.

I’m still all for traveling solo, I’ll be traveling again soon. However, I understand not everyone feels comfortable solo. But solos are in luck! There are many agencies and travel companies with a trip designed just for you.

At the top of the list is Road Scholar Adventures. I don’t have experience with the rest of my list but always recommend that do your research. Adventures Abroad for Over 50, Elder Treks, Grand European Travel (an AARP provider), Intrepid Travel and Kensington Tours are just a few catering to our aging population. There’s no need to give up travel if the spirit is still willing!

Faraway places with the strange sounding names are calling, calling me.