Life becomes extremely difficult when one reaches a certain age: that would be the age when one's body no longer functions well, at all. And yet there are Simon and Schuster, Frollie and Dexter to keep me entertained, though I have noticed that Frollie may almost have reached that age too. It takes her a while to get up and start walking in the morning, though she seems determined not to let Schuey have all the fun chasing squirrels. She races out too, barking like a banshee. Instead of always racing around the rose garden like Dexter and the dachshunds, sometimes she will surreptitiously plant herself on the boardwalk to see if a squirrel will double back. Sometimes they do.
Since Schuster behaves like a small nuclear disaster when we are away, we still "crate" him. A year ago he would run and try to hide when we brought the cage out; Mary and I would have to trap him between us. Now, we bring the cage out, open the door and he either walks or runs in. We put his chartreuse blanket in there, and a new toy tiger we bought for such occasions. And he goes peacefully and happily, apparently. He doesn't even howl before we leave or after; he saves that till we come home. Then we can hear him from the garage. "Quick, quick, climb those stairs and open my door!" And we do, at which point he races out of the cage, dashes around our feet, races back to the cage to grab a tiger, then tears around the house with his tiger by the tail. Makes coming home truly memorable. And delightful.