Enough!

When a cat reaches 20 years, that's pretty much enough.  Except sometimes the cat is still alive, though senile and decrepit.  And well-loved as many cats are, they'll find their own time to leave this plane.  Same with a good dog.  Some breeds live longer than others, but when a critter is done, it's done.

Hit the road, Girl!

Now, my hiking boots, on the other hand, are supposed to last forever.  At least that's how my calculations go.  Bought them in 1997, hiked the Timberline Trail around Mt. Hood, climbed nearly to the top of Kilimanjaro in Africa, stomped around the Northwest a little, loaned them to my daughter.  But they're only 15, with low mileage to boot.  Am certain they could last to 20.

Major failure all around the sole

What brings all these numbers, and memories, and animals stories to the fore is my family-is-gone-hiking-I'll-get-in-shape-while-they're-away routine.  The first day out, I wore a fancy-pants name brand pair of walking shoes with no socks, and came home with a hot-spot on one toe.  Next day on the road dealing with the dog, the dog's pack, and my pack (turns out it was 42 pounds, oofta!), I pulled the trusty old boots off the shelf.  The fit is perfect, soothing to the foot, supportive, strong, but not too much so.  I love them.

Shwopppers instead of heels on my boots.  

Other than the massive weight on my back, it was a fine walk and first of the Things I get to do today, though I noticed a funny sound toward the end of the walk each time my heels came down.  Thought maybe I had a rock stuck in the tread.  About a quarter mile from home, the flapping began.  The whole sole was cracking off the shoe of the  boot, with the heel completely separated, shwopppping along with each step!  I was stunned and laughing as I limped unevenly along home,  and grateful for the wits to wear the boots close to home and not out on a backpack trip of some mileage.  Apparently for these boots, this brand, this breed, 20 years is not in the cards. Yesterday at 15 they said "It is enough!"