Bori and I Are Getting Old Together (She Says She Is Still a Puppy)

Bori's whiskers have started turning grey. I noticed it last month, under the light in the bathroom, when I was holding her for a trim, and I had to sit down for a minute. She is six and a half. In people years that is not old at all, but it is no longer a puppy either, and my brown-and-white Shih Tzu has made it clear that she wants a gentler pace.

I got her when I first moved to Bangkok, alone and homesick, a few weeks after I arrived in Ekkamai. She was a tiny puppy with a bad temper and a very big opinion of herself. Her name means barley in Korean, and it is what we drink at home, a warm, simple, comforting thing. She has been with me through two apartments, a hard year at work and one lonely lockdown, always on the same side of the sofa.

Some things have not changed. She sheds nothing and demands everything. She wears tiny hair bows to the vet in Ekkamai and flirts with the receptionist, who keeps dried chicken jerky behind the desk for her. When she sees that jerky she spins in circles, every time, with the same joy as the first time. She hates the rain, and she refuses to walk when the pavement is wet, so I carry her to the corner, sit her down on the dry part and we continue from there.

Some things are different. She sleeps more, and she is slower on the stairs. Her breathing is a little louder after a walk. At her last check-up the vet said her heart sounded fine but wanted us to do yearly blood tests from now on, to keep her teeth clean and to watch her weight and her eyes, because older Shih Tzus can get dry eyes and dental problems. So now we have a calendar on the fridge with all the dates, and a small notebook where I write how much she eats.

I used to be in a hurry. Now we walk at her speed. We stop at every tree, and the old ladies who sell flowers at the corner give her a piece of banana, which I pretend not to see. In the evening, she sits in my lap while I read, her chin on my wrist.

I know that one day this story will end. But today she is here, snoring and a bit smug, with a pink bow on her head, and she thinks she is two years old. I am not going to tell her otherwise.