Some days being retired doesn’t seem that much different from having a full time job. I guess I should say “semi-retired” because I have a half time job at present. Yesterday I began my final meeting of the day, a really fun gathering called “Adult Forum” with a small group of faithful people who are eager to discuss faith and adults. Informally visiting for a few minutes before our Zoom session, I did the quick math in my mind and realized that I was starting my ninth hour of Zoom meetings for the day, as I began my 13th hour since the first meeting started. 14-hour days were not unusual when I was working full time, but they are less so now. And I’m no big fan of Zoom, but this week I am grateful for the technology that assists our work. I remember the days when meeting with the board of a national organization meant two full days’ of travel and even more hours in meetings each day. As it was, I had time between my Zoom sessions to take a walk with my wife and the dog, make a quick trip to our son’s farm to pick up a few items that we had stored there, and even a little time to sit and read.

We were commenting on how quickly my sister’s dog has come to feel at home in our house. The joke is that sometimes the dog will allow me to sit in his recliner.

The dog may have adjusted, but so have we. Although Susan and I both had beloved dogs in our families when we were growing up, we haven’t been dog people during our active careers. Simply put, a dog is a lot of work and a big commitment, and we had very busy lives. As we grew older and began to think about our retirement, we began to notice that a lot of people our ages were a bit dog crazy. I’m sure that those words might offend some and I don’t mean to make light of mental illness, but some people go way overboard when it comes to their pet dogs. We started to see dogs in baby carriages when traveling. People have back packs to carry their dogs. We meet folks walking on the path while their dog rides. Fortunately for us, my sister’s dog is full of energy and doesn’t need to be carried when we go on our walks.

What is more striking is the way that people speak about their dogs. Seemingly serious and otherwise intelligent people will speak of their dogs as if they were children born to the family. I’ve found myself talking about our daughter’s dog as our “grand dog.” And a lot of people our age who have dogs have more than one. They’ll speak of how well their dogs get along with each other. They are quick to add “they are rescues, you know.” It makes me wonder who is need of rescue.

However, now that we have a dog who lives in our home, albeit for just a while as my sister attends to her daughter who is expecting the birth of my sister’s first granddaughter any day now, I can see some of the advantages of being a bit dog crazy.

For one thing, complete strangers will strike up conversations about the dog. We will be walking on a public pathway and someone who wouldn’t normally speak to us as we pass will stop us to complement us on the dog: “My you have a beautiful dog!” I’ll admit that the Australian Shepherd has a very pleasant and expressive face, but I don’t think I would describe him as beautiful. I don’t know how to react to such unsolicited compliments. Usually I just say “Thank you.” Sometimes I say, “He’s my sister's dog.” Lately I’ve come up with another line: “He group on a ranch and thinks he’s a ranch dog, but I don’t have a ranch.”

Having a dog in our household has made me much more aware of all of the other dogs in the neighborhood. The dog sleeping in my lazy boy recliner will perk up and often jump up at the sound of one of the neighbor’s dog’s barking. And there is a lot of barking in our neighborhood. Although I try to keep the barking from our house to a minimum, there are times when our quiet is interrupted by loud barking. Yesterday during a Zoom call, the dog got out of the chair and ran to the front door barking. As I rushed to push the mute button another participant in the meeting didn’t miss a beat and said, “UPS truck!” Not being a long-time dog owner, I didn’t know if it was just a quirk of this particular dog or if barking at the UPS truck was a universal dog behavior.

The UPS truck is nothing compared to garbage pickup day. I’m not sure I could have a Zoom meeting at home on the day that garbage and recycling is picked up. That dog sounds as if he believes that every garbage truck is a grave threat and that the only defense is continued barking for as long as he can hear the truck.

So whatever the particular form of older adult dementia causes folks my age to speak of their dogs as if they were human seems to have settled on me as well. I recently told a colleague that we now have a “canine enhanced” household. I attribute human emotions to the dog. I speak to him as if he has a perfect command of the English language. I’m pretty sure that in addition to the strangers who greet us when we are walking with the dog, there are plenty of other people who say to their friends when we are out of earshot, “There goes another crazy old couple with their pampered dog. I bet they have some cutesy name for it.”

We don’t. His name is Cody. It fits him quite well, thank you.