It must be hard growing old as a dog.
No pension, scattered grandchildren, the inability to take up smoking a pipe, not having cool silver hair. You look pretty much the same as you did five years ago, you just can’t go fetch or dance on your feet in front of the panel of Britain’s Got Talent anymore.
For humans, ageing comes with its benefits: being able to judge other people without fear of physical consequence, falling asleep wherever you want and it looking cute, drinking in pubs alone and it looking charming, having cool silver or even white hair; wearing big silly glasses that say ‘yeah I don’t have any teeth left but you bet I’m gonna give you an extra £10 for your birthday this year’.
What we don’t necessarily have, except maybe for mobility scooters, is walkie wagons. Devices to take us from A to B with no effort made.
Look at that. Poor old Maggie can barely saunter past a few houses before she begins to limp and ultimately give up on walking, so her owner decided to cart her around in a tiny wagon instead.