As our worlds get smaller and smaller with age, one of the saddest things can be realizing that we'll never again enjoy the daily love and companionship of a dog -- at least not in this life.

But we on the outside can help alleviate that loss by bringing our own pups in to visit nursing-home residents.

Some facilities have fairly stringent requirements about the dogs they welcome for such visits, including the need for Canine Good Citizen certification. With good reason: A dog who jumps up on people can do some real damage to people with unsteady feet and fragile skin.  

To see if yours might qualify for this formal certification, or  check out this AKC-recommended video demonstrating the required training. There's nothing spectacular about it -- all of these skills should be part of a basic obedience regimen at any good training school. (For those in the Milwaukee area, I highly recommend sound, solid and well-established Amiable Dog Training. It's owned and operated by Amy Ammen, my co-author and the brains behind the fabulous book Hip Ideas for Hyper Dogs.)

A housekeeping tip: If your dog is an emotional wetter, you might want to look into canine diapers. Our cocker spaniel sports a spiffy turquoise "nappy wrap" when he goes visiting; it makes people laugh and eliminates the fear and distraction of soiling.

Dogs aren't the only critters capable of bringing joy to the elderly. Cats can make good visitors, too, if they're lazy lap-sitters who don't really care who's doing the petting. And horses can be the most exciting of all: Some kind-hearted cowboys once brought a couple of beautiful Arabians to Care-age of Brookfield, giving many of the residents the thrill of their golden years.

After years of hanging out with nursing-home residents and their families, I've come to the conclusion that the second nicest thing we can do for our loved ones is to preplan our funerals.

I have to admit that, as an accomplished expert in denying reality, I did not support my own mother in this effort almost two decades ago. She was perfectly fine. She was not going anywhere. She couldn't possibly die; I needed her. How dare she even mention the word funeral? SHUT UP! I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT! I WON'T TALK ABOUT IT!

She insisted that I would one day thank her, insisted too that I join her for a chat with the local funeral director who was making the rounds at her nursing home. I finally agreed, wanting to make sure he didn't pull a fast one on her. So one autumn afternoon, the three of us sat at a little round table in what was then called the South Day Room. They chatted happily as they pored over catalogs of caskets together; I remained bitterly silent and watchful throughout the whole ordeal and, when they were through, made a mad dash for home and a good long cry. 

HOW COULD SHE HAVE PUT ME THROUGH THAT HORRIFIC HOUR? HOW COULD SHE BE SO HATEFUL?

As it turned out, she was as right about this as she had been about everything else we'd ever disagreed on. When the time came -- when she actually did the unthinkable and died on me -- I didn't have to make a single decision about her funeral beyond agreeing on the date and time. She had taken care of everything.

What a gift it was, to be free to grieve, free to launch my inquiry into the possibility that she still existed somewhere out there. 

In the end, preplanning her funeral turned out to be the second kindest thing my mom ever did for me. 

But she also did something even more wonderful for me, something of eternal proportions. And that was telling me again and again, throughout our lives together, where I would find her once she departed this world. 

That, in fact, is the kindest thing any of us can do for our loved ones: To conduct the research, to determine once and for all where we will be spending eternity, and to let them know exactly how to find us.

It's probably best to tell them while we're still alive and kicking, so we can answer all their questions about our final destination, such as how they themselves can get there. But it never hurts to leave them a note.  

My mother did both, and I am eternally grateful -- to her, for making the effort, and to our Creator, for giving me the kind of mom I couldn't bear to lose for all eternity. 

"The median annual cost of a private nursing home room in the United States has increased to $87,600, according to the latest annual survey from insurance company Genworth. This represents a 4.4% increase from a year ago." At least, that's what McKnight's Long-Term Care and Assisted Living News is reporting today -- another good reason for thinking twice before signing up for assisted living (see yesterday's post).

Assisted living seems to be all the rage these days – no surprise, really, as we baby boomers do the unthinkable and grow old. I’ve read that 10,000 Americans are already turning 65 every day; no wonder they call it an impending “silver tsunami.”

But a dear friend who’s very familiar with eldercare issues told me not long ago that assisted living can be an unwise choice for the elderly, financially speaking.

“Insurance typically won’t cover it,” she said, “and we’re talking thousands of dollars a month out of pocket. If you live in such a facility for any length of time, and if your assets are limited, you may wind up blowing a big chunk of your savings when you’re still in fairly decent shape.”

Then, if you become really sick and need skilled-nursing care, you may be in trouble, she warned. With good reason, it turns out: I’ve heard that in our county, you can’t even get into a nursing home unless you can pay your own way for the first year or two, to the tune of $7000 a month or more.  

That’s no problem if you were smart enough to invest in long-term care insurance, or wealthy enough to earmark adequate funds for that purpose. But how frustrating would it be to find that you’ve blown your nursing-home “entry fee” on assisted-living rent?

What would you do then? Try to establish residency in a county where money-losing Title 19 payments will be accepted from the get-go? Or, better yet, find yourself a “Golden Girls” living situation, so you can spend your sunset years eating cheesecake with incredibly wise and funny girlfriends? (Okay, who wouldn’t want that – but how likely are you to find and fit into such a situation?)

It’s true that we don’t know what the long-term care situation will be in this country if and when we ever need skilled nursing care. In England, for instance, the long-term impact of socialized medicine is already becoming apparent as the nation begins shutting down her “unaffordable” nursing homes. If we follow suit, maybe there won’t be enough beds available at any price.

In which case, if prayer isn’t your thing, “eat, drink and be merry” while you can might be the best advice, and perhaps an assisted-living facility is the best place to do that. For the rest of us, leaning on the Lord and saving our funds for long-term care may be the wiser course.