119 Years Old In Dog Years

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Sebastien, Mr "S" we call him, has been a good old dog.

He is seventeen years old. Has just a few teeth left. But he can still protest. The only time he yaps is when his blanket in his bed is not situated to suit. He also knows how to drag his water bowl into the traffic lane of the room, so you'll fall over it. . . "Fill it!" He speaks clearly.

He can't see worth a hoot any longer. When he does make his rounds in the house, he tends to bump into things. After he does his business outside he gets a treat. We hold the treat about three inches from his nose so he can smell it, because he can't see it.

He hears not well either. When he was younger, he hid from us. All we did was bounce his tennis ball and he'd come running ready to play. Now, we have to yell his name, but he can't figure from what direction the noise comes from. We found the best way to have him follow us is to clap the hands. That sharp sound seems to let him get oriented more easily.

Have you ever seen a more pitiful little pup than "S" enjoying a good rubdown after a bath?

I didn't mention his smeller yet. There is not a thing wrong with his nose. Out of a sound sleep, and he sleeps twenty-three hours of the day, he can smell an orange being peeled. (He loves them). Instantly he can smell when I core an apple, when I pull open a can of sardines. (He loves the juice. My kinda dog). Pizza making makes him loose sleep. He can't rest if a slice is left on the counter. He even yaps at the slice, can't see it, but he knows it's there. He will not leave the kitchen until we put the leftover in the refrigerator.

We love that old thing!
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