I'm Retired! Now what?

August 14, 2026

I’ve always heard that one of the joys of being retired is the fact that now you have all that glorious time to babysit all those glorious grandkids.  I’m not sure how much babysitting my retirement life will hold considering of the three grandkids in our family one of them starts college this month and her older sister is 23 years old.  Now we do have one that is only eight, and he does come over occasionally, but for the last few months our babysitting duties have fallen upon the grandkids who have four legs.  I would say, “And a tail,” but I don’t remember my stepson’s dog Niki having a tail of any kind.  I don’t have a clue what kind of breed the pooch is, but considering she’s not much bigger than a large cantaloupe I’d say she’s an actual lap dog.  This theory is supported by the fact that my lap seems to be her favorite spot.  I’m not sure why she avoids Margaret, but whenever I sit down this old lady of eight years springs up on me like she’s a puppy!  I’m not sure where my stepson got her, but apparently wherever she came didn’t carry a dental plan.  Yea, that dog has some pretty screwy teeth, but she doesn’t look like she’s missed too many meals in her life.  Every time we’ve kept the old girl, she’s proven to be pretty low maintenance.  Unlike the other grandkid we babysit, she doesn’t need a constant flow of strawberry milk and never once has Niki tried to hack my phone account in order to buy more Roblox game stuff.  Apparently though, when my stepdaughter Monica caught wind that we were babysitting Niki she figured we were open for business concerning dog setting.

With only a week or two left before granddaughter Nadia loaded up for college her parents, Monica and Justin, decided to take the family on a float trip down the Illinois River in eastern Oklahoma.  Float trips are always a lot of social and communing with nature fun, but Monica couldn’t take her youngest child Brody along.  Brody, of course, being a one-year-old pure-bred poodle.  A very energetic pure-bred poodle I might add.  Usually when I think of poodles the image of a very refined canine lounging on a plush couch in the confines of a Manhattan penthouse comes to mind.  After little research though, I found that poodles were originally bred as retrievers of water fowl as well as taking the spotlight as circus performers.  With that in mind I’d say that this dog Brody was trying his best to live up to his breeding pedigree.  I honestly think the guy could jump up and touch his snoot to an eight-foot ceiling if he took a notion! 

When Michael drops Niki off he basically just gives us her leash and says, “See you in a couple of days.”  However, when Monica and Justin showed up with Brody, I felt like he was moving in!  Brody’s dog crate required the straining strength of both me and Justin to carry into my house, and I would pretty much bet that it’s bigger than most third world jail cells and cost more than my brother’s first car.  And then there was the guy’s dog bed.  Granddaughter Nadia was bringing a friend along for the trip, and even though this girl was seventeen years old, I was amazed that the little kid could carry that huge bed.  It probably weighed as much as she did.  I have no doubt that millions of folks in this world would kill to have a bed so nice.  Then again, when you’re a pure-bred poodle you’re entitled to the finer things in life.  And heaven forbid Brody had to drink water from the kitchen facet like a normal dog, or me for that matter.  Oh, heavens no!  Monica brought a case of bottled water for the pampered pooch, which he pretty much drank every drop of during his stay.  Where Niki ate and drank from some old plastic take out bowls we had kept from Jack In The Box, Brody had his own high-tech food and water bowl.  And then there were the toys.  The pup had rope toys, pull toys, and a stuffed shark that, according to Monica, was supposed to be indestructible. 

The poor pooch had never spent the night away from his family, and everything was fine until Monica and family bid us farewell.  Like a little kid being dropped off at daycare for the first day Brody suddenly wanted to know where his mommy and daddy were.  As long as Monica and her crew were in the house everything was fine, but as soon as Brody discovered he had been abandoned the poor fellow darted around the house looking for his parents and then stared out the front window whimpering like, well, like a lost puppy.  However, the sad state of abandonment feeling was short lived.  Since retirement my social life hasn’t ventured much further than doctor appointments and the crew who were roofing my house, and very few of them spoke English, so I was happy to have the company.

Since I lost all my tennis playing buddies when my job ended, I have a stock pile of old tennis balls, and I lost count of how many times I tossed those blessed tennis balls, not to mention that indestructible shark, for the energetic beast.  But now I can’t wait for my next month’s chiropractic appointment so I can get my shoulder shoved back where it needs to be.   Speaking of toys, Margaret had gone out and bought a stuffed duck that actually quacked for Niki to play with.  However, that old girl is a bit passed her playing age.  However, Brody attacked the poor, stuffed water fowl with no mercy!  After that rambunctious beast got tired of chasing tennis balls the game of tug of war began, and although my biceps and shoulders might be feeling the game for a while, that poor duck got the worst of it.  By the end of the weekend my living room floor was covered with the stuffing of the poor, departed water fowl, and I had to pull out the plastic quacker out of it in fear that Brody might just swallow the thing.

Thinking that the dog had more energy than a mongoose on amphetamines, I grabbed his leash and out the door we went.  I’ve walked the mile circle around our neighborhood hundreds of times over the years, but I’ve never carried out the walk with the fear that my arms might be pulled out of their sockets.  However, I suppose there’s a limit to everything, and about three quarters of mile into our hike Brody found a nice place in the grass and just plopped down for a breather.  I had to laugh and tell the dog, “You know, I generally walk this loop four times.”  Okay, I don’t get to brag very often, and I’ll take my shot whenever I can get it, even if it’s to a dog.

When bedtime came Margaret suggested I move Brody’s king size dog bed to the foot of my queen size bed so he wouldn’t get lonely.  I was fine with that, but Brody had other thoughts in mind.  As I snuggled in under my covers, I guess I just looked too comfy because as soon as I turned out the lights the pooch jumped up on the bed and nearly pushed me out onto the floor.  I guess I had made a friend for weekend.

Apparently chewing on tennis balls and destroying that poor stuffed duck didn’t satisfy the adolescent beast.   He now wanted to fight!   Suddenly Brody’s choice of chew toys became me!  He might have thought we were just playing and that’s all good and fine, but he’s the one with the mouth full of teeth!  Even though a poodle might be considered a non-manly pooch to some of the more macho driven guys I’ve known, these dogs still have teeth!  Big freaking teeth!  That crazy mutt was chowing down on my arms so much he drew blood in four places, and days later I’ve still got bruises on not only my arms but my legs as well.  I had become that stuffed duck!  To be honest, I guess I should have welcomed the hostile play, because when Brody wasn’t trying to tear into my flesh the amorous pup was trying to have relations with my leg.  I’m not sure which is worse!

When the eight-year-old grandson Legend comes over he always wants to wrestle with me, but as of yet the kid has never tried to bite me.  Thank goodness for the indestructible shark chew toy.  It became my only line of defense between my flesh and that playful canine’s chompers!  When Monica and her family stopped by a couple of days later, she took a look at my arms and said, “Yea, he likes to wrestle.”  I’m not sure how macho I can feel after a weekend of getting mauled by a playful poodle, but the guy did have some moves.  I certainly gave the pup plenty of attention, and I hope Brody had a great time staying with the grandparents.  The next time he comes over though, I might lock him up in his high dollar crate.