Dont Mince Words

Tex and I were strolling back from our walk to the coffee shop on Melrose. We were in the home stretch, the last block, where Tex always lags behind. He’s not slow because he’s sniffing everything. He’s just old and tired. His hips try to keep up with his mind, but often fail him.

Half-way up the block I noticed an old man going about the same pace as Tex. As we got closer, the 80-something had on a blue wife beater, a full adult diaper, and gray-blue loafer slippers with dark blue piping on the top, just like my dad used to wear. He was holding a bush with each step he took as he headed north to Santa Monica Boulevard. I said good morning as we passed. His face looked like he had not shaved in a week. I remember that old man look from my father. Why bother when you are ill and the folds in your face make it even harder to shave? As I fed Tex, I called the West Hollywood sheriff and explained there was a semi-ambulatory old man with dementia out for a stroll on my block. I’d never seen him before and didn’t know which building he came from. They said they’d send a patrol car over. Tex retreated to his day bed to look out the front door.

The old man shuffled past two more houses before he stopped to rest on a brick wall. Approximately 40 minutes elapsed and his caretaker had finely come out to find him, about the same time the patrol cars rolled up. I walked out and talked to one of the sheriffs.

“Thanks for coming. I realize this was a less-than-desirable call, but I just couldn’t let this guy wander on Father’s Day,” I told him.

“God, I hadn’t thought of that,” the sheriff said. He laughed and continued with “it did look like he was making a break for it didn’t it?”

When Tex becomes incontinent and in pain, he’ll get the shot. My dad, when he realized his life was tied to a dialysis machine, elected to discontinue treatment and fade away. But I think the cruelest death is living in a shell of a body not knowing who you are and reliant on others while you look for life.

The wandering old man deserves to be in a better place.

It’s official. Tex is my longest running relationship since arriving in LA. He’s emotionally available, he’s big, he doesn’t flake on me, and me makes me smile every day.

We’ve been together a little more than a year and April Fool’s Day is his designated 11th birthday since it’s easy to remember and it reminds me how foolish I thought I was for adopting an old dog. But Tex is a combination of Jeff Lebowski and Flounder – there’s a casual, cool, perpetual goofiness about him that makes him my one true love.

While my favorite, four-lettered word is N-E-X-T, Tex’ word of choice is W-A-L-K. But sometimes he can’t walk. After some severe bouts of lameness, I discovered that Tex had an advanced case of hip dysplasia as well as some lower back issues. Now doggie meds keep the inflammation down in addition to glucosimine and Omega-3 infused food. He doesn’t hike as much. In fact, he now gets more pleasure walking to Whole Foods so he can be the exit greeter while I’m inside shopping.

Last weekend a woman commented at a coffee shop that he was an “obvious old soul.” I don’t know about that new age hippie bullshit. I do know he’s old and kind of looks like Yoda. And he is wise. He’s the dog everyone wants to pet. Small kids want to hug him. He’s happy to be alive. I’m glad I fostered/adopted him. It’s a pleasure to keep him comfortable in his senior years.

The dude abides. Happy birthday man.

I spent the first four years in Los Angeles dating voraciously, trying to make up for my career-first East coast days. I’m now a dog owner, which has kind of changed my outlook on dating. You are going to have to be better than my dog and my vibrator to get me out of the house.

That rule quickly changed on Thursday for the veep debate. I had a gentleman caller (GC) over for drink Palin Bingo. GC and I were re-introduced a few months ago by a mutual friend and have had a great time bitching about dating in LA, getting fit, writing, and everything in between. It was nice to have a man over. I didn’t have to leave my dog.

But Tex quickly established who was top dog when he crawled on to the sofa and pressed his nose up to GC’s hip. I was permitted to sit sideways beside the boys. After a few “mavericks” and “main streets,” Tex realized this guy was ok and he demoted himself down to his day bed on the floor. GC was approved.

Tex is the big brother I never had. He watches my back. Thankfully, he leaves the room when he hears the vibrator.