My cat is now 19 years old. I don鈥檛 know how old that is in dog years, but for a cat, I think it鈥檚 pretty old. A 19-year-old cat doesn鈥檛 do a lot. He sleeps most of the time, usually in a stray beam of sunshine or on top of the furnace vent.

He will sit on the coffee table and stare at me until I stretch my legs out on the couch so he can lie on them; to get the warmth I am told. My massage therapist says I shouldn鈥檛 lounge on the couch because that is what is screwing up my back. Unfortunately, my cat鈥檚 stare seems to be quite hypnotic and I usually end up with him stretched out on my extended legs.

He knows exactly how long a period is in an NHL game and when the horn sounds, he stretches and gets up because he knows I鈥檓 getting up. He just sits there and waits until I get back, not caring one bit if my back spasms return.

Once in awhile, after his saucer of milk and a couple of mouthfuls of food, he makes a noise to go out and wander around the deck and if I forget he鈥檚 out there he tells me off when he comes back in.

The other day, the sun was shining and he went out. After a bit, I heard the familiar sounds of cats sparring off outside. He had dragged his arthritic old hips down the stairs and was face to face with a much younger black cat he had trapped up against the garden shed.

After watching for a bit, I realized he wasn鈥檛 fighting. He was just giving the 鈥榦ld man talk鈥� to this kid who wandered into his back yard. When old guys get too old to do the job any more, we become consultants.

The young cat didn鈥檛 look scared, it was more like, 鈥済eez it鈥檚 a nice day, how long am I going to have to sit here and listen to this old fart?鈥� I鈥檓 sure he was being told about respecting other people鈥檚 property and staying within your own fence, blah, blah, blah.

Eventually, I called to my cat and when he knew I was watching he made one pretend lunge and the younger cat cringed, then bolted off across the lawn and over the fence. My cat turned and looked at me saying, 鈥淲ell, did you see that, I scared the crap out of him.鈥�

It鈥檚 an old guy thing. It doesn鈥檛 matter if it鈥檚 an old cat, an old dog or an old man, we will continue to mark our territory until the day we die. Maybe one day it was a beautiful woman, a piece of property or just our reputation, but we defended it.

Today, it may be a parking spot at Tim Horton鈥檚, a spot in line at the buffet, or of course, a beautiful woman. Age has nothing to do with claiming what鈥檚 rightfully yours. Any opportunity to lay into some young guy that鈥檚 out of line is a welcome change of pace in a world that鈥檚 moving pretty fast.

So to all you young whippersnappers out there, when some old guy starts in on you about your nose ring, your tattoo or wearing your hat in the restaurant, listen 鈥� but don鈥檛 talk.

He may still have some pretty sharp claws. At least that鈥檚 what McGregor says.