At the age of 62, I no longer have interest in listening to a male voice tell me what I can or cannot do. For once in my life, I want a companion that is silent and loving, so I have chosen my dog to share my remaining years. My dog eats what I give him and does not demand that I shop for probiotics or buy him organic items.
If I choose not to take a bath one day; my best friend will not care, and actually prefers the smell of freshly cooked meat over the scent of Victoria's Secret. No longer do I worry about little white lies, because if I catch him doing something wrong, he simply lowers his head and gives me his paw.
He does not ask for the remote, nor demand hours of TV sports, and when I get annoyed with his behaviour I immediately send him out. I no longer have to share my smoothies, and the worst I have to put up with is his occasional sloppy drinking out of the toilet. He never throws an insult, or puts me down in front of his furry acquaintances.
He isn't on Facebook or Instagram. He doesn't know how to take a selfie, but he does like watching other dogs on youtube. You really can't call that porn. He doesn't chase after other women. The only thing he runs after is a stick. He knows I don't want anything to do with his saliva-ridden rubber pig. No one is offended if he scratches in public.