The first inkling I get of it is when they rustle around in dusty places and bring forth a big green fake tree that I'm not allowed to wee on. Yes, the sage of dogs is growing old. My muzzle is now nearly all grey and I can't seem to get going so good these days.
Life is tough when it takes three tries to make it up onto the mistress's sleeping platform.
At least that's what I used to do until this bird business. On Birds I'm starting to wonder about my mistress's sanity. For a while now she's been putting seeds in a container in the tree for the birds. Really, you ought to hear the language of those parrots, it's disgusting. She thinks it's being cute, but I know the language and for every cute thing she says, it's using four letter bird words.