My dog Daisy Duck is 15 years old. Apparently, nobody has bothered to tell her.
She still has the enthusiasm of a puppy, especially when she decides it’s time to play. Her body might be getting older, but somewhere inside that little dog is a considerably younger version who hasn’t figured out that she’s supposed to slow down.
I can relate.
I’m 54 years old, and while my brain is occasionally convinced I’m still in my twenties, my body has started suggesting otherwise. I have a fair amount of puppy energy trapped inside what increasingly feels like an aging collection of spare parts.
The desire to play is still there. The recovery time is just considerably longer.
I’ve always preferred being playful to being overly serious. That doesn’t mean I don’t understand responsibility or know when to behave appropriately. I’ve had plenty of experience with both. I just don’t see why being a responsible adult should require abandoning the parts of myself that enjoy being a little ridiculous.
And my version of playfulness isn’t always about jokes.
Sometimes it’s doing something completely unexpected. Showing up with something I know another person has been wanting, just because I can. Finding a little way to surprise someone or make an otherwise ordinary day a little more interesting.
And occasionally, it’s hiding behind a door and waiting for someone to walk past.
I realize that last one might not be the most sophisticated expression of affection, but there’s something deeply satisfying about watching somebody jump when they weren’t expecting you to be there.
Of course, this is a dangerous hobby when you’re six foot seven. There’s considerably more of me to conceal than there is of Daisy, and I’ve learned that being startled by what appears to be a Yeti emerging from behind a door can produce some fairly colorful language.
Worth it.
Usually.
Playfulness was part of my relationship with Melanee too. I enjoyed finding ways to make her laugh, catching her off guard, and occasionally doing something that earned me one of those familiar eye rolls. Sometimes the reaction was better than whatever joke or surprise I’d come up with in the first place.
That part of me hasn’t changed.
One of the things I particularly enjoy about my relationship with my girl is how naturally she matches that energy. She’s playful in her own way, and sometimes she takes things considerably further than I would have expected. We can tease each other, do something silly, or turn an ordinary conversation into something neither of us could have predicted.
And the more time we spend together, the more I want to spend with her.
Not because every moment needs to be exciting or entertaining. We have plenty of ordinary moments too, and I enjoy those just as much. It’s knowing that we can be serious when something matters and then turn around and laugh at something completely stupid five minutes later.
I’ve discovered that I really enjoy being around people who don’t require me to behave like I’m 54 all the time.
Whatever that’s supposed to look like.
I think there are people who gradually stop playing because they believe they’ve reached an age when they’re expected to be serious. They still enjoy themselves, of course, but the spontaneous, ridiculous, occasionally embarrassing stuff starts to disappear.
I’m not particularly interested in that arrangement.
There are still people I want to surprise, things I want to try, jokes I haven’t told, and plenty of opportunities to make somebody laugh when they least expect it.
Daisy seems to have figured that out without needing to think about it. She doesn’t care that she’s 15. If she wants to play, she plays. She might need a little more rest afterward, but that doesn’t stop her from enjoying herself while she’s doing it.
I think she’s onto something.
I’m not getting any younger, and there are certainly days when my body makes that abundantly clear. But I don’t want to reach a point where getting older automatically means becoming less playful.
Besides, there are still doors to hide behind, surprises to arrange, and people I love who deserve an occasional unexpected smile.
And if you happen to walk past a suspiciously quiet doorway in my house, you might want to be careful.
Just saying.