I had some hassles with Google this morning that prevented me from adding any content.  I’ve since switched over to a different provider to allow me access to my site.  In the meantime, I spent some time this afternoon at the Vet with our dog Tinker.  She has a couple of lumps that seem to be interfering with her motion and comfort levels.  A couple hundred dollars later, we’re resting comfortably at home.  Pet. Vet. Debt.  (see post #67:  Schnauzer on Steroids).

I also had lunch with a friend. bought some office supplies, and tried to get some business cards ordered.  It’s only early June and I’ve already overspent my monthly retirement budget.  I’ll have to find some ways to conserve.  Our pets are expensive to keep healthy, but well worth the investment.  They are my steady companions at home, and I sometimes measure my own mortality based on the state of their health.

My wife had several cats and a dog, named Belle, when we first got together.  They would all keep a close eye on me during the courtship process.  Belle would have been 25 years old this year, and Macy the cat, who also eventually approved of me, would have turned 23.  They’re chewing on the Pearly Gates now, watching the progress of our new pet family consisting of Frankie 16, Tinker 12, and Tally 7.  Frankie was our first joint investment just before we got married.  Tinker was adopted as Belle’s companion, and Tally was adopted after we lost Roxie in an accident.  I’ve watched them all grow older with time passing quickly.

All of us feel a little worn and torn.  Tinker has especially been going through a rough time with allergies, ear infections, rashes, back problems, and lumps.  It’s a good thing I’m retired and have all this extra time to spend with the Vet.  Tally always enjoys tagging along to support her ailing sister.  Simple dog math puts Tinker in her 80’s, but “old age ain’t no place for sissies” as my mother used to say, quoting Bette Davis.  It’s hard to watch Tinker grow old, knowing that I’m growing old myself, and that someday I might need the help of a doctor.  I doubt that I will seek the help of a veterinarian, unless my ears start to itch.

 

Worn and Torn

I’m worn and torn,
From wear and tear.
I’ve lived too long,
It now seems unfair.

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In-shape and fit,
Started out as a hunk.
Now my spirit is dead,
And my muscles all shrunk.

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For too many years,
I just didn’t care.
After just a few steps,
Now, I’m sucking air.

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Drinkin’ and Smokin’
More than I should.
Tastin’ and Eatin’
All that I could.

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All those temptations,
I should have fought.
This Hangover has hung over,
Longer than I thought.

,

I’d sit on my ass,
Smokin’ a doob.
Watching others exercise,
On the boob tube.

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I’ve been hard on myself,
And that’s made me soft.
At overindulgence,
I often scoffed.

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Can’t give blood,
Cause I’m on medication.
I’ve set the standards,
Of our overweight nation.

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I have a warm heart,
And a few good parts,
But my cholesterol,
Is off the charts.

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Mark Antony’s quote,
“Lend me your ear.”
What’s that you say?
I can’t hear.

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My smile is crooked,
And a few teeth missing.
And these wrinkled lips,
No longer worth kissing.

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Do the eyes have it?
Not any more.
And who’d want a nose?
That does nothing but snore.

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My voice is no louder,
Than most mimes.
And I’ve bitten my tongue,
Too many times.

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When I die,
I want to share.
I’d donate my organs,
But who would care?

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Copyright 2017 (revised from 2009)  johnstonwrites.com