September of Their Years

by Chris Robinson

In 1965, Sammy Cahn wrote the lyrics “One day you turn around, and it’s summer, next day you turn around, and it’s fall and the springs and the winters of a lifetime, whatever happened to them all” for the music Jimmy Van Heusen composed for Frank Sinatra. The song wound up as the title track for the album September of My Years.

The lyrics for this song often echo through my head when I’m hunting or working with an old dog. Sure, I’m having a lot of fun working with my young dog, still technically a pup as he’s not yet two years old. But, I confess that I’ve always had a soft spot for old dogs, a spot that has gotten even softer as I’ve become something of an old dog myself. So don’t expect dispassion or objectivity from me when the subject is old dogs. If they’re working dogs, I love them all, even the crotchety, irascible and grumpy ones.

Eventually we all get old. It’s just that the weight of time imposes its physical issues on dogs much more rapidly than it does on people. This means that we only have five or six years to benefit from a dog at its physical peak. If you are a hunter, as I am, this means you’re looking at five or six hunting seasons when the dog is at his or her very best. Before those middle years, dogs are developing puppies or a bit later, adolescents with all the equivalent canine foibles associated with teenagers. After those few middle years, they are, as the old idiom says, getting on in years. But those “getting on in years” can be very good years indeed.

Older dogs are fully capable of giving us 100 percent, whether we’re hunting or doing obedience, agility or any of the other dog sports available these days with them. It’s just that they give you that 100 percent in a different, more temperate manner. Gone is the hell-bent-for-leather style of the dog’s youth when they ran right on the edge of being out of control. Instead there is an economy of motion, a moderate, controlled pace and a higher level of focus. Yes, you have to adjust your expectations a bit with an old dog. You won’t see the same level of effort, amount of vigor, or the sort of performance you saw when the dog was in its prime. You also have to use some common sense in what you are asking the dog to do. While their bodies may have changed, the amount of “heart” the dog possesses never does, and unless you stop them, most won’t ever quit no matter how rough the task becomes or how harsh the demands on their aging bodies.

But the ability to pace themselves is a virtue of old dogs, one that we humans could emulate now and then. In my early 20s, a friend of mine and I were pushing hard to complete a task that required a great deal of physical effort. After a half-day, we had about run ourselves into the ground. We were bent over, sucking wind when my friend’s granddad, who had been watching us, strolled over. He said, “You know, you two remind me of Toby, Tim’s Brittany pup. He runs like hell for about an hour and burns himself out but he doesn’t find any more pheasants or quail than does Bailey, your dad’s old Brit, Tim, and he’s eleven. In fact, we always shoot more birds over Bailey than Toby. Bailey paces himself which means he’s still on his feet when we’re done hunting while Toby’s finished before the morning is over. What you two need to do is try to be more like Bailey. Be old dogs. You’ll not only get the job done but you’ll be alive when it’s finished to appreciate what you’ve accomplished.”

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Posted by Alex on Aug 15 2016. Filed under Current Articles, Featured. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. Both comments and pings are currently closed.