My dog is three and a half years old. He still thinks he is a puppy. People who see him think he is a puppy. He also has the daily routine of a puppy.
Sleep. Eat. Play. Sleep. Change sleep area to near mom. Beg (and get nothing). Sleep. PLAY! Sleep. Play? Mom! PLAY! Sleep. Why won't you play with me? Wait. Mom, something's wrong. Mom. You need to do something mom. Okay, you're good. PLAY! Sleep.
He knows how I am doing better than I do. Last night he was firmly convinced that he needed my attention. He would bring me a toy, I'd throw it, he'd fetch it, and then he would lay down on my feet with the toy on his paws.
Eventually I pay attention to him and take inventory of my mental state. Under most instances, when he prefers my feet to a toy he is telling me that he is worried about me. This can take me a while to sink into my brain. Sometimes an entire day.
I was getting frustrated with his wanting to play and how he kept being clingy and needy. It took me till this morning to realize that he was trying to tell me to take one of my meds that keep me sane. When I have gotten that far into anxiety no amount of focus exercises or meditation can calm me down. He was trying to tell me to take my darn meds! Once I had taken my nightly planned med he calmed down and went to sleep over on his couch. He had done his job and was able to take a break.
Good dog. I don't know what I would do without him. That makes me nervous. I have dreams of losing him and wake up in tears.
The dog came to me when I most needed him, and when he most needed help--about three months after my husband's death. The dog has the same brown eyes as my husband did.
So yeah, I have a fear of what would happen if the dog wasn't there anymore. I just hope that doesn't happen. Till then, I keep up listening to his insistence (after a while of him trying to get my attention) and he keeps up being a puppy.