By Jennifer Long | Rural Messenger
“One senior is preparing for the future. The other two are reminding me to slow down and enjoy the now.”
When people hear “Senior Year,” they usually think of graduation caps, designated senior activities at school, and stacks of college brochures—and that’s exactly where we’re at. My daughter is in the thick of most of it. The kitchen table has become her command center, piled high with college campus tours, scholarship deadlines, and financial aid forms. Her daily chatter has shifted from TikTok trends to things like, “What’s the difference between a major and a minor?”
It’s exciting. It’s emotional. It’s wildly expensive.
But there’s another set of seniors in our home, too—two of our four beloved dogs, Lucy and Brutus.
They’re not preparing for dorm life, but they are in their golden years. Lucy, our quiet little shadow, is laser-focused on securing the best nap spot (usually wherever the sunbeam lands). Brutus, the lovable goofball with a heart of gold, still attempts a heroic counter-surf from time to time, even if it now requires a running start and a prayer.
While our daughter is mapping out her future, Lucy and Brutus are fully present in the now. When she gets accepted into a college, we celebrate her future. When Lucy trots across the backyard with surprising spunk, or Brutus greets us with his signature full-body tail wag, we celebrate them—and the joy they bring to our lives in this very moment.
The contrast is striking. With our human senior, we’re juggling deadlines and college decisions. With our furry seniors, we’re watching for signs of discomfort, refilling the ever-present water bowl, and gently helping them up the stairs when their legs get tired. In a way, Lucy and Brutus are teaching us how to slow down—how to savor what’s right in front of us.
They’ve become the emotional anchors in a season of uncertainty. When college stress piles up, my daughter will collapse on the floor and wrap her arms around Lucy’s warm, sleepy body. When I’m overthinking the to-do list, Brutus jumps on my lap and reminds me to take a breath.
Senior year—whether it’s marked by campus visits or extra naps—is all about transition. For our daughter, it’s a leap into adulthood. For Lucy and Brutus, it’s a slow, beautiful glide toward peace and comfort.
As a mother, I’m learning to let go. Of my little girl who’s grown up. Of the dogs who once bounded across the yard and now prefer to nap through the afternoons. We’re trading constant action for quiet companionship. And somehow, that feels just right.
So while one senior in our house is dreaming of the future, the other two are curled up beside me, reminding us to embrace the now. Whether it’s cheering for a college acceptance or celebrating the simple act of Brutus climbing onto the couch unassisted—these are the moments. Big or small, they all matter.
And now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to refill a water bowl and proofread an essay about growing up, while two toy aussies nap gently at my feet.
