Old dog, new trick.

What a weekend this has been so far. I've seen two things that have affirmed my position on getting old, and it's given me an idea.

Thing #1

You ever seen a really, really, really old lady? We're talking about wispy white hair, hunched back, withered liver spotted skin, medicinal smell, the crinkle of diapers when she walks, that sort of thing? Friday, her mother was ahead of me in a check out line.

This old coot wanted to buy a lottery ticket. Not a daily keno or a 649, nothing like that. No. She purchased a cash for life.

I'm betting money that the cash for life people would JIZZUM in their pants if a 107 year old mummified old coot won.

I guess your brain really does turn to much when your body goes to dust.

Thing #2

Today, a friend of my fathers called me to help him pick up a riding lawnmower that was getting repaired. This guy is no spring chicken. He's in his late 60's and his wife is 75. When I arrived, I saw his wife, standing beside her car. Sitting in a lawn chair beside the car was his wife's aunt. She's not quite as old as lottery ticket lady, but I'm still nothing more than a sperm compared to her.

As luck would have it, she couldn't walk. She blamed it on some sort of pills her doctor gave her. So guess who had to carry old Betty big bottom through a huge house and up a spiral stair case?

I did suggest a winch through the top window. That wasn't appreciated.

A few years ago my childhood dog was nearing 16. She had a pancreatic infection, or it was cancer. Either way she was in terrible pain and there was no amount of medical help in the world that was going to set her right. She was humanely euthanized. She was in my arms when the vet gave her the needle, in the arms of the person she loved and cared for the most. She was relieved of a never ending pain without causing any more for her.

Right now I enjoy a good quality of life. I'm healthy, I'm happy, and I'm strong. That could change at any moment. I could be hit by a bus, or fall off a building, or just get old, senile and incontenant.

When you end the suffering of a family pet, it's called the final act of love. When you do the same for a human loved one, it's called murder.

The hypocritical double standard of todays society aside, If my senior years are spent drooling and shitting myself while a Sharon, Lois and Bram clone band sing retarded songs to me in the home, I don't want to be around.

Thats why at the first signs of zero quality of life, I'm dressing like a dog and booking myself into the SPCA. Nobody will adopt me, and I'll be humanely put out of my misery, to spare myself the humiliation and degradation senility brings.

Feel free to use my idea! I won't hold it against you.

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The Advice of Mr. Spazoid
This Old Coot
Get off the road, you blue haired dolt!
I think I threw up a little in my mouth