Old Dogs and New Tricks

A new year has dawned! I was so busy celebrating the Twelve Days of Christmas, I suspended my online presence to be in the present. Gathered in communities of young and old, the holidays were like a deep dive into a warm pool of love and gratitude. “The best ever!” I remarked when asked. “You always say that,” reminded my daughter with a winsome smile. I suppose I do.

Midst the parties and gatherings, New Year’s Day unfolded quietly at my house. Instead of making resolutions, I curled up in my favorite armchair under a fleece blanket and set upon choosing a theme to weave into the coming months. My mind wandered far and wide but within an hour, I knew: “Old Dogs and New Tricks.” Let me explain.

My almost eleven-year-old Golden Retriever has been ailing for the past six months and we have made many visits to the veterinarian. Addressing my concern, the charming young female vet reassured me that “old dog syndrome” is to be expected at this age. Yes, I knew that, having owned several other old dogs. However, her words hit my stomach like a dose of bitter medicine. Was she only talking about my pet or was I included in her diagnosis? At the beginning of a new year full of sunshine and promise, such dour thoughts were about as welcome as a wet weekend at the beach.

I had just spent three days and nights with my youngest grandchildren, still basking in the joy of being together, playing endless board and card games, baking muffins, watching them ride their bikes and scooters with the neighborhood kids, things I did when young. Simultaneously, my awareness of the very different world they occupied heightened. The ubiquitous, hypnotic allure of technology, virtual platforms at their fingertips, and the complexity of artificial intelligence filled me with dread and fear. I wanted to rail against the assault on their innocence but felt impotent and tired. Was I sinking into “old dog syndrome” without realizing it? Should I just give up? Everything inside my soul shrieked “NO!”

See, even though I accept my age, I do not feel old. Neither does my dog as he bounds across the yard with a ball in his mouth, wanting me to play catch just like he did as a pup. The body declines and we feel those effects but inside, a perpetual, timeless light shines; a vitality deepened by experience and knowledge, still flows like a river of grace. There are still so many thresholds to cross, new insights to gain, beautiful sunsets to behold. Now, with more time on my hands in retirement, I reject the dismissiveness of old dog syndrome and prefer to direct the authentic wisdom of my years toward the common good.

In this age of artificial intelligence, I find it curious that the young, so quick to condemn the fake, desperately seeking authenticity, remain glued to screens and endless scrolling. What they say they desire remains paradoxically elusive. The “new tricks” of technology (Googling, Zoom, TikTok, and the likes) can never adequately substitute for face-to-face, interpersonal, meaningful relationships. Yet, we cannot simply turn back the clock, erase the Internet, or reverse technological evolution. Old dogs and young pups need each other to forge ahead without fear. The “old school” ways of my generation need to be modeled and shared. The “digital natives” of all the new tricks need to come out from behind their screens and talk to us about their hopes and dreams. Undeniably, we need to learn from each other.

And so, my year will be dedicated to more personal encounters, especially with young folks, posing meaningful questions, listening attentively, refraining from talking too much (a real challenge for the likes of me). As an old dog, (not a derogatory term in my book), I eagerly anticipate the thrill of allowing curiosity to lead the way.