When most people talk about old dogs, the old dogs are 14 to 16 years old. My dog Lady, for instance, is still lively (most of the time) at 14-plus.
When I was a kid in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia, people always talked about Old Joe, owned by the Bryant family. He was eight years old when I was born, and he was still alive when I was 15. That meant Old Joe was 23. In human years, that would be about 130, if not older.
I remember Joe well. At 23, he'd stagger up for breakfast, stagger off to do his business and then stagger back to his spot to take a nap. There were no pee dances, no playing, no toys and no chasing balls. Joe did what he had to; then he slept.
He was surly and apparently didn't see well, so we never tried to pet him. Toward the end, his fur was matted and ragged, and you weren't going to give him a bath. He wouldn't allow it.
Joe never made it to 24, and I wasn't there when he was buried. He was just gone. He wasn't the best dog I ever saw — nowhere near it — but he was memorable.
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