It’s a gift that our pets get old.
About a month ago our neighbors got a 4-month-old grey and brindle
French Bulldog named Millie. She is a love and a joy. It turns out that, in
reality, fences with slats missing are actually the ones that create good neighbors,
a love affair soon blossomed between our Falcor, 10, and this new bunny-sized
fearless gremlin. This began conversations with her human family and arrangements
were made whereby we can grab Millie and pull her up over the fence to let her
play in our yard (which has more room for running). And they run. Ohhhhh. They
run. Millie has youth but gives up about 55 lbs of length and weight.
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| "Hi, I'm Millie" |
Falcor, has always been a younger brother a of dog. He is both
chronologically the younger brother, with Grover, 12, ever having a chill old
man personality, being his senior. But, he also acts the part. He nudges. He still
has that boundless energy where you have to scold him to get him to stop giving
you kisses on the face. This “older dog” role is new for him, and it’s incredible
watching him grow into it. When Millie cuddles in my arms, Falcor goes right up
to her and gives her tiny little love nibbles, while she squirms happily on her
back. He is so gentle with her, not catching her when he chases her, even
though over time he has let it slip that he can. Millie exploits her youth.
While Falcor has the edge for the first 20 minutes, he has a finite about of
steam. Millie still runs like she’s got a Tesla engine inside her. This results
in Falcor flipping on his back and just letting her attack him. She is happy to
oblige. With the size difference she loves using our lawn chair and dog bed, or
anything off the ground, to propel her at Falc from above. She landed on his back
and neck twice just today. It’s impressive. Millie’s youth is palpable and when you squeeze
her, the idea of anything bad ever happening to her is unfathomable. She is
immune to time. She is beyond it, and will be for a long time.