I was watching the adorable puppies in the pet shop window this morning and an elegant woman standing next to me said: “I live around the block and come here practically every day. No matter how I feel, they [the puppies] make me happy.” Dressed in a lovely floral dress and carrying a smart-looking hand bag, she also was well spoken. “How old are you?” I boldly asked her. “Up there. Really up there,” she answered, while moving her hands upwards.
“You look marvelous,” I answered. I guessed she was well into her eighties, maybe even over ninety. “How do you feel?”
“Ok, but I’ve slowed down. It’s being a senior.”
“I don’t use that word ,” I shot back.
“Actually, I don’t like it either,” she said. “When I got an American Express card that said senior, I stopped going to an Italian restaurant where I often had dinner. I didn’t want them to know.”
I asked what she was doing today, and she answered, “I’m going to take a walk, then have a bite of lunch and then go back to my apartment to do some things.”