Old dog

The dog is old, but not old enough.

I am older than I imagined I would ever be, but not old enough to stop working or caring or trying. I am tired but I still have to eat my kibble. My time as a parent to a dependent child is old, but not old enough. The child is learning to drive and planning her escape, but she's still here everyday asking for snacks and advice and handing out parcels of attention and love. I've been living in this old house for such a long time, but it's not quite time to leave. Do I stay here, in this old house with my old dog and my old mother, and continue to build a nest for a kid who is leaving? My mom is old but still independent. My car is old but still runnning. My words are imprecise but still legible.

I'm an old dog, but I'm not yet dead.