I may be an ole dog now, but once many years, a couple of generations back, I was a young dog, waiting to take on the world.
I believe 1976 was the last year I had the misbegotten idea I was going to take a bite out of the worlds ass instead of ending up with very little world in my teeth, and huge chunks of my ass missing and scarred.
When I step out of my smaller pickup now, I groan quietly as I straighten up to walk, my body may feel like, look like, and ole dog.
But inside the Ole dog the young dog is waiting his turn to return to this rock.
The spirit is still strong, and sometimes the mind wanders back to when I could rip my shit off on a hot day of hard work, without noting I might want to pass up a second helping tonight.
The circle of life, death and rebirth.
I tell the dark side minions, you can not win.
Ever time you misbegotten spawn of dark side scum murder me, I come back stronger!
The Young Ole Dog, or the Ole Young Dog!
The chicken or the egg?