First of all, I don’t know whether to say you’re welcome or I’m sorry for the photoshopped image I made for this post.
Need to see it again to be properly awed or creeped out ? Okay.
Like I said. I’m sorry for that. Or you’re welcome. Or both. I don’t know. It just started out as a funny idea, and after hours and hours (and by that I mean a minute or two) of Photoshopping, that’s what came out.
Anyway, on to the discussion at hand.
Friends, I am the Great Dane of humans, physically at least. This is what I tell anyone who accuses me of possibly living into my seventies or even eighties. I laugh in their confused faces and I say, “do you even know who I am?! I am the Great Dane of Humans!“
Of course, my humor makes sense to me and only to me exactly 92% of the time, so I guess I’ll explain it to all of you the way I always have to explain it to all of them.
I am a big dude. Like, really big. I’m 6’4″ tall and almost just as wide. I weigh-in at a cool 1/8 of a ton. Compared to most people, I am a giant.
Great Danes are also big dudes. Like, really big. Compared to other breeds, they are giants, weighing in at close to 200 LBS sometimes.
Because of their massive sizes, they just don’t live nearly as long as other breeds of dogs. Their joints get tired from carrying around all that weight, their hearts get tired of pumping that much blood through their bodies, and the very biology that engineered them finally says, “enough. You’ve fulfilled your roll as… Dog.”
Shit. This is getting kind of twisted and dark when it’s actually written down, isn’t it. Oh, well. I’ll keep making the steps toward my point anyway. I am the Great Dane of humans.
I’m only 39 and my joints are already just tired from carrying around this much mass for so long. I look at my chihuahua friends who are the same age, and I get jealous of their non-screaming joints. My heart also flutters here and there. Doctors haven’t detected anything yet, but I feel it happen. My heart is already getting a bit exhausted of pumping so much blood through my body.
I do wonder if the very biology that created me will finally say, “enough is enough. You’ve fulfilled your roll as… Human,” and I’ll get to go cross the rainbow bridge.
Hm. Yep. That was very twisted. But it’s how I feel. I honestly don’t look into the future and see myself still alive as an 80-year-old man. My body just doesn’t feel like it’s got that long in it.
Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe, with modern medicine and technology I’ll live to be 126 years old, and I’ll get to be there for my son’s 100th birthday party. Most Great Danes die between the age of 8 and 10, but some have actually lived as old as 17. And that means the Great Dane of humans may just surprise all of science yet.
Between then and now, I’ll just always make sure to eat my large breed formula food and slurp down enough beer to pretend that the constant pain in all my joints doesn’t actually exist.
Dan Pearce | The Single Dad Laughing Blog