Buying a dog at 50 is different than buying a dog earlier in life.
Because when you’re older, you have to check how long that particular dog might live.
So you don’t die and leave it wandering around on its own.
There are many things that I have started doing as I’ve got older.
And doing the following (some might say) morbid (but sometimes sensible and necessary) mathematical sums is one of them.
If I live for 1,000 months (I am 606 months old now) I have 394 months to go.
That’s just under 33 years.
About 1,694 weeks.
About 11,858 days.
8 world cups.
33 Christmas days.
And about 2 dogs.
It doesn’t sound like a lot does it?
But – and this is the truth of course – it never was a lot.
Yes, 8 Wold Cups until death sounds shit.
But from the day I or you were born we were only ever going to live long enough to see 20 World Cups.
So why the surprised face?
Life is a mere visit.
That’s why it’s important to make it count.
PS. A lot of this is to do with perspective.
I have about a quarter of a million hours left.
‘250,000 hours’ sounds better than ‘2 dogs’.
So that’s the story I’ll tell myself.