Rex’s strong suit is his ability to tolerate a high degree of ambiguity.
Now 84 in dog years, Rex subtly but insistently plays the patriarch card in the household.
Rex could have gone the way that 99% of the planet’s older beings seem to go: cynical, heard it all, “Don’t try to teach me anything, you young whippersnapper!” Instead, he takes the higher ground, being wise enough to know that nobody really likes the grouchy old man in the room.
Like my amazing but difficult Father-in-Law, now chilling on the Other Side with a glass of wine and a good book, Rex is one of those beings that was simply born on the wrong side of the bed. Pissed off was his his default demeanor.
“When I was younger, I was a real pain in the ass,” Rex candidly admitted over a pint of Mac and Jack and a can of his favorite Natural Balance Limited Ingredient Duck and Venison. “It’s tough when you can picture the gold standard, the ‘Way things ought to be,’ when you’re surrounded by jackasses. I spent the first half of my life wondering why everyone was so frickin’ stupid.”