Disaster Planning

I’ve said before that I’m not particularly skilled at winging it – at it’s deepest and most basic, my core personality trait is that I’m goal-oriented.

Because I’m happy to dwell in both the left and right brain at the same time, as long as I have clear and flexible goals, I can usually do pretty well at establishing a course of action that works for me.

I absolutely love a well-conceived to-do-list.

My to do lists are weird because they deliberately incorporate the right brain stuff. I generally divide them by priority (Wanna, Gotta and Oughta) and I then try to keep them simple. Wannas are almost always stuff like “read, paint, write, go to the park”, while the Gottas tend to be the daily necessities of food, clean clothes and paying the bills.

But as much as I can plan ahead for the upcoming week, there are things that no one can anticipate.

I’m not a worrier. I don’t borrow trouble from the future, because it hurts me today. I don’t dwell on the past unless I’m certain there’s a lesson in there somewhere that I’ve missed.  I prefer to live here, in the now, with my tiny quirky to do list, and take life as it comes.

That being said, sometimes the writing is on the wall. I’m realistic to see it, and to know what’s happening next.

Specifically, I’m talking about my dog Lingo.

He’s just gotten a relatively clean bill of health from the vet.  his bloodwork is spotless.  He’s showing signs of age like the beginnings of cataracts and old-man warts, but they are mild and not causing him any problems.  He’s a big dog – and the vet told me to only expect him to live 9-10 years when I got him.  He turned twelve this month.

He has bad days and good days. He’s having a hard time with his poo – more accidents inside the house. I’m supplementing to help his hip dysplasia and arthritic joints. He still seems happy and bouncy, he still wants to bark at people on his sidewalk, and he still tries to sneak up onto the sofa (even though it’s SO bad for his hips!).

He might live to be 15 for all I know.

But I’m disaster planning – in my mind. What will I do when the time comes that we have to say goodbye to the best dog in the world?  This worrying is out of character enough for me that I notice it. It wears on me.

Time to focus on the present and the time we have left, right?  Is there anything else I can do?


4 thoughts on “Disaster Planning

  1. I sympathize. My best dog in the world is gone now, several years, and I still miss her terribly. By the end, she didn’t even know us anymore. It took years for us to even contemplate another pet. It’s a bittersweet relationship. Their short lives are a reminder of how tenuous it all really is. Hugs, friend.

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