There is a vast amount of difference between growing old and dying by 100+ and living until the heat death of the Universe trillions of years from now. Surely something in between, say centuries or millenia without death from the ravages of old age would be ideal. Life is too short and tends to end in a bad way, would be nicer if it was a bit longer and more open ended without the decline until something fails.
I wonder about this at 50. Being an odd duck, my philosophy here is based on a Conan story about a race that lived forever and had an actual ceremony for when the decided to end things.
Stuff accretes over time. One shoulder, the opposite arm due to compensation, both big toes, etc. But take away all of that and there are still accretions: I’ve started to track the point where I know more dead people than live ones. Of course you can compensate for this and my wife and I have a wide social circle that we tend like good gardeners, but that feels like a delaying action. At some point I’m going to hit, “Hey, fellow kids!” if I haven’t already. Put more simply, will there come a time when the idea of falling in love with one more dog just to lose them will feel like a bad bet?
