From time to time, while walking our chocolate lab Aquinnah, I cross paths with a white-haired, sweet-tempered man who, I would guess, is in his late 70s or older. This pleasant, sociable fellow, who uses a walker on his neighborhood jaunts, always has nice things to say about Aquinnah. Our encounter on Wednesday was no exception.
‘Oh, what a beautiful chocolate . . . (hesitation) . . . cat,” he said. I was taken aback, but smiled politely. It was quite disconcerting to think that an elderly fellow making the rounds on his own could not differentiate between a cat and an 85-pound dog. But that was not the case. No sooner had he turned a canine into a feline than he immediately corrected himself. “That is such a beautiful dog,” he said.
This dog lover is not so badly impaired that he cannot recognize a dog when he sees one. He was at a loss for words for two or three seconds, and did his best to save face by saying what came to mind. Still, the fact that he could not dredge up the word “dog” and substituted “cat” instead is, in and of itself, a reflection on the ravages of time. Growing old is not for the faint of heart.
‘Oh, what a beautiful chocolate . . . (hesitation) . . . cat,” he said. I was taken aback, but smiled politely. It was quite disconcerting to think that an elderly fellow making the rounds on his own could not differentiate between a cat and an 85-pound dog. But that was not the case. No sooner had he turned a canine into a feline than he immediately corrected himself. “That is such a beautiful dog,” he said.
This dog lover is not so badly impaired that he cannot recognize a dog when he sees one. He was at a loss for words for two or three seconds, and did his best to save face by saying what came to mind. Still, the fact that he could not dredge up the word “dog” and substituted “cat” instead is, in and of itself, a reflection on the ravages of time. Growing old is not for the faint of heart.
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