Old Dogs, on Patience

by JG Sage

I was patient once. I was much younger then. I had time for everything, we probably all did. And then life caught up with me, I ran to meetings, ran away from meetings, ran to school, ran to fix meals, and then ran home to my dogs. And I ran out of patience.

When my husband was so ill I ran out of patience with the disease. Not at Michael, although he was the walking embodiment of the disease. I couldn’t rage at him, because I wasn’t angry at him and that wouldn’t have been fair … I was angry at the disease, what it had done to our lives, to our life together.

I was ALWAYS out of patience. And I was exhausted.

Jazz is my oldest Vizsla, he’s 17. Jazz has a penchant, developed late in life, for standing in doorways. Blocking doorways. Usually when I’m in a hurry. He’s not very heavy, but he’s still thigh-high on me – big enough to well block a doorway. He also has the greatest talent for walking one step ahead of exactly, exactly where I want to go. Slowly. With a little wobble.

One day I caught myself becoming impatient with this. And as I put my hand on his head he looked up at me with old dog eyes. You know the eyes, the ones that droop a little on the bottom. The ones who have seen it all. Seen me laugh, seen me cry, seen the bird under hedge cover that I missed, seen every chipmunk on the farm. He turned those eyes on me in complete trust, just like always. And time stopped.

Old dogs operate on a different plane of time. They have patience. They’ve done the hurrying, the scurrying, the chasing, the holding. Now they want our time, our patience. I stopped in my tracks and just talked to him, told him how glad I was that he was with me. Blocking the doorway. That we should go right now out into the sun and take a short walk. You see Jazz almost didn’t make it through the winter. He had some rough days. As we sat on the couch together, healing, I promised him that warm days were coming and we’d stand in the sun until we melted. Then we’d lay down in the shade until we were ready to be in the sun again. He decided to stick around and try it.

Every day with Jazz is a blessing. He’s reminded me that TIME can be a blessing as it gives us moments to be with each other. Jazz brings out the best of my patience. We take an extra minute or two to walk thru the house despite the pup doing handstands and tap-dancing to urge us on to greater speed. We stand in doorways together to see what there is to see. We stand in the sun until we start to melt, then we go sit on the couch together.

Jazz has reminded me of the gift of patience, the gift of taking time for important moments. And when your best friend is about 119 in human years, every moment together is an important moment. We have no time for impatience, we have the gift of these moments to share.

As Jazz has aged and slowed down he’s not lost his interest in life, and I think he’s developed a little more sense of humor. He was always a straight-laced guy who was occasionally a complete goof ball. Now I think he enjoys razzing the pup, I know he enjoys letting me help him up the steps, and he definitely enjoys telling me when he wants something different for breakfast – or one more dog biscuit. He’s very good at that. These are the moments that are so special, watching Jazz be a little silly, a little patriarchal, getting his own way.

And if he wants to keep standing in those doorways, I’m thankful for the moment to stand beside him. Old dogs have the gift of seeing things those in a hurry will miss. Maybe he’s seeing time, maybe he’s seeing my soul. But he’s definitely seeing me standing there with him, hand on his head, telling him I’m so glad to be with him. Patience. Try it. What an incredible gift.

JG Sage

Etna, NY

2013

To be used only with author’s written permission.