Getting old

My dog Fife is old. I'm guessing he's somewhere between 75 and 180, but that's just a rough estimate.

Getting old totally blows, according my observations of this old, fat beagle. He's on pain medication. He sleeps all the time. He can't walk around the block without getting pretty winded.

Add to this his recent propensity to start barking very loudly, and randomly, at 2 o'clock in the morning. Out of nowhere, it sounds like he's warning the family about the clan of serial killers outside our windows. It's a pretty horrible way to be woken from a vivid dream about the real morning jog I have scheduled just a mere four hours away.

We've decided these night terror barks are from failing eyesight. He wakes up and it's dark outside. He sees a shadow. Bark. Bark. Bark... Not only is he old and sick and dealing with his failing eyesight, now the whole family hates him.

That's just a clear-cut case of insult to injury if you ask me.