When the Duchess was a wee pup, I nicknamed her Wombat because she looked like a cute little wombat. Her sister Annie was Pudge Bunny for obvious reasons. When they arrived, Ruger immediately took to both of them. Annie was unable to join in some of the playful ruckus because her front shoulders didn’t work well. Duchess, on the other hand, enjoyed her time playing with uncle Ruger who taught her the ropes just as Sergeant had taught him. Ruger mentored the Duchess, teaching her how to wrestle and how to protect the house by growling and barking at strangers who came into the yard, especially the ‘brown man’, that pesky UPS delivery man.
It seems like only yesterday when Duchess was young and playful but she is now old and wise. Her beloved uncle Ruger and sister Annie are gone. She tries to pass the torch of protecting the house to the Budster, teaching him to bark at the brown man but although the Budster is happy to watch the process, he doesn’t join in. Alas, there is no one to whom Duchess can pass the torch. The light passed down from generation to generation will one day flicker and die. The long, rich heritage will be no more.
The glory of young men is their strength, and the splendor of old men is gray hair.
My hair used to be black, thick and curly. It is now gray and thinning. I used to be strong and I can still hold my own but I know I can no longer do what the youngsters can. Still, they don’t have what I have and there is no one to whom I can pass the torch. What I have learned and all that I have experienced will die with me.
My two sons will be the end of a magnificent blood line. With their age and status, it is doubtful that they will have offspring. Consequently, their lives may be the last page in our family’s book of life. We are descendants of royalty and embarrassment. Alexander the Great, Constantine, the House of Plantagenet, to mention a few. Fulk V was a French nobleman who was the Count of Anjou from 1109 to 1129. He was the Count of Maine (jure uxoris) 1110–1129. Fulk was a crusader, Knight Templar and was the King of Jerusalem. He was my 26th great grandfather. The boys don’t know this or care. Kids today. Yes, I know I said there is no one to whom I can pass my torch and I also said I have two sons. It’s complicated. You know how life gets.
I was in my late twenties I suppose before I began to appreciate those who were old and wise and traditions passed from generation to generation. I was taught to respect my elders but respect is one thing, appreciation is another. Youngsters are too busy flexing their muscles and hormones to appreciate the splendor of gray hair, soft eyes and gentle wisdom that comes with experience. Old age isn’t always magnificent. When you get old and parts start rusting and falling off, you feel tired, useless and unwanted. You are misunderstood and kicked aside but seniors are special in God’s sight and He gave them an extra special promise.
Even when you are old, I will take care of you, even when you have gray hair, I will carry you. I made you and I will support you; I will carry you and rescue you.
Did I mention that I am of a royal bloodline and the King Himself has promised to care for me throughout all of my days.
It is amusing to watch the foolish antics of playful youthfulness but I prefer the company of seniors, those who are gentle, old and wise.
We were talking about dogs, weren’t we? Sometimes I drift. It’s part of getting old, I suppose. 🙂