About a month ago I got a new dog. Bella is actually a very old dog; she’s just new to me. At 14, she’s a super-senior.  

I admit I don’t actually know her entire background, but she had been well taken care of and loved.  I got her from NBRAN (National Brittany Rescue and Adoption Network) where she had been surrendered.  Bella came with a sheaf of medical records dating back years.

My friend Monica regularly fosters for NBRAN. She had Bella for about six months and Bella was initially in rough shape. She was obese and could barely walk. According to the vet records, euthanasia had been discussed. Monica and her two younger Brittanys were up for the challenge. They got Bella walking, and eventually she lost some weight.

Bella is not a Brittany, she is a French Spaniel. And, let’s face it, she is really, really, old.

Those were two big strikes against her when finding a forever home. People tend to go to a breed-specific rescue for that breed, but NBRAN is cool about taking almost-Brittanys. They have a lot of skill placing Brittany-mixes.

But rehoming old dogs is almost impossible. Most people want puppies, not elderly dogs with health issues. Potential adopters look at old dogs and worry about the loss, not what they bring.

Not me. As much as I love puppies, I adore old dogs. For one thing, geezer dogs have manners. They are housebroken. They don’t chew. And, if you are busy or lazy, they need far less exercise.

They are also very resilient. In my experience. I’ve adopted five extremely senior dogs and they just adapt.  They show up at their new house, look around, settle, in and usually take over. They don’t have time for histrionics.

That doesn’t mean that they don’t come with strong opinions. Old dogs, like old people are bossy. But in a much cuter way.

Every elderly dog I’ve ever rescued had a very strict idea of when bedtime falls. Hint: it’s early.

My first elderly rescue Morgan, used to stand in the hallway around 8:58 and bark at me until I caved and went into the bedroom. Then she’d happily climb on her bed and go to sleep.

Bella is a little more subtle. Now a true Jewish dog, she uses guilt.

Around 8:45 she wakes up from her post-dinner nap and wanders around. She is 100% able and willing to use the doggie door, but when she believes it’s time to hit the sack, she ignores it. She walks around the kitchen –past the dog door- and strides back into the den. There she stops in front of me and looks pleadingly into my eyes. She repeats this behavior about four times or as long as it takes.

Eventually, I get up and ask her if she needs to go out. This brings the Danes out of their slumber, and a small riot occurs at the front door. I force my way through the scrum and the Danes fly out and get to business. Bella, the catalyst of all this, pauses on the stoop and looks at me like she has no idea why we are here.

I coax her out by walking down the driveway. She slowly inches her way onto the lawn. If I wait long enough, Bella will do one of two things. Either she will meander around and pee. Or – and this is far more likely – she makes a U turn and trots back inside.

Then I have two choices. I can go into the bedroom where she waits patiently for her nighttime snack. Or I can try to be the boss and keep watching tv causing the whole dumb charade to repeat until I give up.

For a dog that used to have serious mobility issues, Bella loves her walks. Almost every day she goes out alone with me, or when I walk Jasper and Ruckus. Initially Bella liked to lead. She didn’t know where she was going, but she was marching there. Now she lollygags around, sniffing with the rest of them.

Before I adopted her, I introduced Bella to Jasper and Ruckus. I wanted to make sure that they’d all get along. It was a non-event; they all totally ignored each other.

My next concern was Bella and Tilly, my once-feral cat. Bella is old, but she is a Spaniel and they are bred to have a strong prey drive. If Tilly and Bella have not bonded, they have become comfortable roommates.

It was Jasper, and Ruckus who got crabby when Bella walked in and stayed. The first day Ruckus followed her around and yanked a chunk of fur out. Bella is exceedingly fluffy and wasn’t hurt.

She was scared, which is reasonable.

That first week I never left the dogs alone together. Whenever I left, I put a baby gate between them. Soon Ruckus stopped following her and Jasper stopped grumbling.

One day I returned from the barn and the baby gate was down. Only Bella could have knocked it down. All three dogs greeted me happily at the front door. We were on our way to a peaceable, if not quiet, kingdom.

Bella had never seen a horse before, but they barely register on her radar. They are very aware of her. When she wanders into the paddock they always – even when she is practically under their hooves – step carefully around her.

The only time I’ve seen a typical Spaniel reaction from Bella was when she noticed my neighbor’s chickens. She was fascinated.  It’s a good thing there was a fence between them.

Bella’s eyes got huge and she tried to push toward them. Since chickens are chickens, the whole flock crowded up to stare at her, clucking away. Then Ruckus ran over and scared the birds.

Now, the first thing Bella does when she is out, is trot to the back looking for chickens.  Sometimes she does. The chickens never remember her.

Pretty much everyone who meets Bella loves her. Well, duh, she’s a pretty awesome old dame.

My heart will break when she dies. But I knew from the beginning that our time together was limited. I know that when every creature– young or old – enters my life. I never get to keep them long enough.

To me, it is always worth it. This is particularly true when it’s an old animal, coming from a rescue or the pound. All I want is for them to have a comfortable place where they are loved to spend whatever time they have.

I don’t think I have failed my oldsters. I KNOW the only time they have ever hurt me is when they leave me.