The Feral Elder's Longevity Strategy: Adopt A Pet

By VALERIE HERSHFIELD, The Feral Elder, InDepth NH

Welcome to The Feral Elder by Valerie Hershfield. Our purpose is to share experiences and thoughts from folks considered “older.” We wouldn’t think of designating what that age is. We hope this column makes you smile, ponder, or just slap your head and say, “Hey, that happened to me!” And, just maybe, share your own thoughts and experiences.

Who is Valerie Hershfield?

A native Californian, I’ve lived in eight states in my 80 years, but the busiest were the 11 years in New Hampshire where I loved putting my journalism degree to work as a correspondent for the New Hampshire Union Leader. A correspondent covers every kind of news in his or her beat towns. I called it my “murder, mayhem and garden parties” job. At the same time, I juggled being an international tour director, a bartender, a stringer (case finder) for Judge Judy, and a volunteer EMT. I currently live in rural northeast Iowa with two cats and am a part-time docent for a local museum. Let’s share the ride!

By VALERIE HERSHFIELD, The Feral Elder

Sooooo many things to think about as we age -- healthcare, wills, staying independent, retirement accounts, various body part replacements, trivia night. One thing I had never anticipated as a younger person was whether a pet would outlive me. Does anyone remember who did think about it? Hotel tycoon Leona Helmsley who notoriously left her Maltese pup, Trouble, a $12 million trust.

At Left: Marmy and Lovey (Shelter names)

Always an animal lover, I’ve been fortunate to share many of my 80 years with dogs, cats and even a horse when I was 10. My dogs, Tootie, Brandy, Buttermilk and Larry, all lived to be at least 10 years old. My cats Rooster, Peter and Dave, all lived many more years. YoYo Meow, a flame point Siamese, left me in 2019 when he was 18. He was the coolest cat ever. We drove across the country four times with him co-piloting from a pillow on the passenger seat. He was affectionate to everyone, and nothing spooked him. I thought it must be the breed – cream colored with orangish “points” and blue eyes -- that made him so easy going. Turns out, the cat fancier world can’t agree if flame point is even a breed, but I’m a believer.

Covid hit. My job in the tour industry disappeared. I was living alone and petless. Like a lot of people, I took to “window shopping” online. Rather than scrolling Zillow.com where some search for their dream homes, I scoured animal shelter sites for sweet-faced furry guys, such as a long-haired dachshund or a basset-corgi mix like Larry. One endless quarantine day I visited my town’s shelter website. Low and behold, there was a YoYo Meow look-alike, a flame point Siamese. The blurb under his picture said he was best friends with his orange “kitty condo” roommate.

Off I dashed to the shelter with the admonition from my daughter that, “You better get his orange friend, too.” And I did. I paid the adoption fee, grabbed the paperwork and brought them to their “forever home.”

FOREVER? FOREVER! The shelter’s paperwork indicated both adorable furballs were a year old. Looking at their big eyes set in round faces, I doubted they were even that. I realized if they lived as long as YoYo, I’d need to stick around until at least 90 -- nothing I’d had to consider before I was “of an age.”

Kitties Marmy and Lovey have comfortably settled in. They’re healthy and appear fit for all of their nine lives. I’ve decided I can either anguish about their long-term future, hope I hit Power Ball so I can do a Leona, or appreciate the guarantee that I’ll be here for at least another decade, thanks to these boys.

In the meantime, my life now runs according to cat feeding times. Vacations are planned around the cat sitter’s schedule. Dark clothes are cat-hair magnets, as are meals, sofas, rugs, table tops, the ceiling fan, pretty much everything. My late husband was fond of saying, “Animal hair on everything used to be disgusting. Now we just call it condiments.”

P.S. A judge lowered Trouble’s inheritance to only $2 million, but she managed to live a life of luxury. Leona’s grandchildren received $6 million, with the balance going to charities.

Thank you to Gary Moore, of Bradford, VT, for the following contribution (previously published):

I turned 80 Saturday. It was an age I never thought I would reach, but am happy I did. I am reminded of the following, “I always knew I’d get old. How fast it happened was a bit of a surprise, though.” -- author unknown

I hate the word elderly. The media use the word all the time, and apply it to people I would never call elderly. Just the other day I read a piece that stated, “The elderly woman was moved to a Boston hospital.” Ok, I envisioned some frail 90-year-old who likely lived in a nursing home. No, it said she was 75.

Now, I take that personally as I am 80 and I don’t consider myself elderly. Old maybe, but not elderly. You may say I simply refuse to face reality, and you may be right. However, as long as I can remain active doing things many much younger cannot, don’t call me elderly.

As most journalists are far younger, they likely think anyone beyond 65 is elderly. I know there was a time when I was in my 20s and thought 50 was old.

"You know you are getting old when everything hurts, and what doesn’t hurt doesn’t work." -- Hy Gardner

I like the following quote from Henry Ford. “Anyone who stops learning is old, whether at 20 or 80. Anyone who keeps learning stays young. The greatest thing in life is to keep your mind young.”

This article first appeared on InDepthNH.org and is republished here under a Creative Commons license.