Time Travel

Adopted Monk in February. He was a stray that was picked up by animal control and then saved from death row by a local rescue. The rescue said that he was about 7 years old.

He came with a limp.  An old injury that seems to not have healed correctly and his left front paw is turned inward in a funny way.  Took him to the vet today because it seems like his leg bothers him more lately.   (Took him to this same vet back in February when he first arrived.)

Today, after hearing about what was going on and checking Monk out, she says, "You know, I think he's probably a little older than seven."

I tell her that I had wondered about that too.  Ask her how old she thinks he is.

She looks at Monk, takes a moment and says, "I would say he is probably around 11."

Wow.  In dog years, he just aged from 49 to 77 years old.

So instead of driving around in his convertible, trying to relive his glory days...

Well, hel-looo Ladies!

Monk's hanging around his front porch, shaking his cane at the world...

I told you kids to GET OF MY LAWN!

I don't blame the rescue for estimating low.  I'm sure they had a hell of a time trying to find a home for an old, lame dog who is possibly mixed with Pit Bull. 

At the end of the vet appointment I tried to talk her down, like I was at a flea market, haggling over the price of an old piece of furniture.  "So, ah....what do you think....should we just go ahead and call him 10?"   She looked right at me and shook her head.  "Hmmmm.  No.  I really think 11 is more like it."

Doesn't make a difference in how I feel about Monk.  It just means that he won't be around for as long as I had thought. I was hoping for 5 years or so, but now it will probably be just a couple.

Adopted Lily at 11 years old, so it would not have mattered what his age was.  Hey...now we can start to refer to them as "The Twins."