An inspiring story of saying goodbye to a good dog (published)
For the past fourteen years, my life has been centered around two English mastiffs, an Australian shepherd mix, a poodle mix and, most recently, a crazy terrier mix from the animal shelter. As I started writing this, I was down to two canines: the thirteen-year-old English mastiff and the crazy terrier. It was my Maggie, the mastiff, who had left a permanent spot in my heart. She had outlived most large breed dogs to date, not to mention that she had survived longer than both her parents and most of her siblings from other litters. She held herself proudly and became a miracle dog for my family and me. However, her life was not always kind.
She stumbled along; her hips and back legs riddled with arthritis. Running was out of the question, but she still loved to take a stroll with me around the house. On a good day, she would make her rounds back to the pond and out to the horse pasture. Just the other morning, Ms. Maggie followed me to the vegetable garden, adjacent to one of the horse corrals and barn. She swaggered a bit, a slow zigzag across the gravel driveway and on to the open area. She sniffed the wood fence and followed my steps to the barn door. Before entering, she slowly lowered her back hips down to a low squat on the spotted grass. I wanted to help her with every step and movement, but I let her maneuver with the dignity of her breed.
Maggie was a rare pup from the beginning. She was the only pup from the first litter for the breeder. This in itself was unique for the large breed. However, she meant more to us because we had purchased her on our son Michael’s birthday, December 22nd. It was close to Christmas and our first holiday after the loss of our oldest son, who was killed in an accident earlier that same year. This pup was the smile and laughter that we feared to share that first holiday after our loss, but also what we needed the most. This bundle of copper brown fur. with her deep black mask, nuzzled into our arms and worked her way into our hearts for life.
She grew older alongside our son Michael and our daughter Kate. She experienced all the ups and downs of junior high school, high school, and college. She listened to all the arguments and the joys of teenagers growing-up. She shared the kids’ bedrooms during the day, but at night, she knew her spot on the twin mattress in the garage that she shared with her brother. She was an easy and quick learner of all the rules and demands of a family dog. She was also a friendly companion to all of our human friends.
She had this way about her that I wondered who controlled whom. With this dog, there was never any need to carry a firm hand, and she respected our requests as we did with her. It was almost an unspoken shared dominance of each other. She traveled on numerous family vacations. She even tolerated a brother from a second litter that we rescued from a couple in Chicago who could no longer care for him. He towered over her, and though his size was formidable, he deferred to her with every move. At times, she actually enjoyed his company but mostly tolerated his presence. She seemed to know her maternal place was with us from the very beginning.
My mastiffs became major characters in one of my youth books: Dog Gone: Boomer’s Story. From that fame, Ms. Maggie accompanied me to elementary schools introducing my paperback to the students. She would patiently wait for me to complete my explanation about the motivation to write my story. I introduced her as I discussed the origin of the English mastiff and the personality of the breed. Even her unmistakable flatulence and her indelible slime did not deter my listeners. Oh, there was always a snicker or two or gasps of air from my audience, but Maggie was loved by all the children. They wanted to pet her, to hold her large head, to scratch her big ears. She was always the focus of my presentations, and my story itself was lost in the awe and interest in this big dog.
Since those days, Maggie’s younger brother Bojangles died at the age of nine. He battled cancer and had to be humanely put down. My husband and I selected one of Bo’s favorite spots in the back yard near the pond that he would frequent for a summer swim. It was the day of his death that Maggie once again proved her incredible sense of timing. During Bo’s burial, we kept Maggie indoors but as soon as we said our goodbyes to Bojangles, I let Maggie out. The big dog jumped off the back porch, ran to her favorite basketball, picked it up, and stared at me. I was not up for a game of catch and ignored her. She walked over to Bojangle’s grave with ball still in tow. She stood there for a while, sniffing the air as if collecting the last scents of her brother. She dropped her basketball at the top of the gravesite, turned, and walked back to the house. That was five years ago and she has never touched that ball since. It remains at the head of Bo’s grave, half-covered with flowers and grass.
At the age of fourteen, Maggie’s step had slowed down tremendously. She did not lope, nor would you catch her in a dead run anymore. Her back legs had weakened from arthritic hips. Going down the porch stairs took a meticulous shift in weight as she would swing her weakest back leg around, much like a peg leg and waddled down the steps. I watched in awe and in sadness to see this giant of a dog take so much effort to get to the yard. However,once she got there, she could still roll over in the grass, and I was comforted in knowing she still enjoyed the outdoors.
Maggie now slept a lot and in our bedroom. Her vision was impaired with cataracts. Her hearing had been compromised with age. She was more the observer than the participant in life. However, her life remained invaluable. She had been an excellent mentor for the little terrier mix that I rescued from our local shelter this past year. Maggie tolerated the hyper mutt and taught her the canine rules of behavior. In return, this little dog gave Maggie a bit of spark. I witnessed brief moments of quick tug of war with the big dog. Her time of play was still there, though it was over almost as soon as it is began.
Sad to say, that past summer, we prepared her grave next to her brother’s. We were not trying to hasten the inevitable, but we were realistically preparing for a long winter. I remember looking at her one day and thinking, “Oh, my, it’s like dead dog walking. Yet she is still here with us. How does she do it?”
As I started writing this, I was flooded with memories of her and with the realization that she had been vital to this family. Since our son and daughter have left the house and my husband and I are empty nesters, I realize how much we have all endured. I wondered if she sensed the time she had left. Did she search for a new purpose in life or role in our family? Did it bother her not to be as mobile as she once was? Did she care if her body did not function as it did when she was that strong young pup? Did she realize her upcoming fate?
I think she absorbed what she could each day. Her life, though it was different than it was before, remained true to her. She was still a part of us all, and we continued to love her. It had not been her size or her strength that have impressed me. It had been her unconditional patience and love for us and for her own existence. Her life was as big as she saw it – Her life was hers. It had been a good one.
If she lived for one more year or one month, it did not matter. Maggie had coped with all of her adversities, and she had accepted the changes. She grew old with grace. She appreciated all the little things in life: good food, good company, good play, and a good pat.
I realize now just how much I have learned from this dog: life may not be fair, but it remains good. It is all we have.
By the way, her favorite basketball remained at her brother’s grave. It awaited her when it was time.
I’ve encountered many non-human creatures on my life’s journey.
I have found each and every one of these animals to be a unique and wondrous being.
Animals have truly brought fullness to my life. Some of them have also brought de
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I’ve encountered many non-human creatures on my life’s journey.
I have found each and every one of these animals to be a unique and wondrous being.
Animals have truly brought fullness to my life. Some of them have also brought de
For the past fourteen years, my life has been centered around two English mastiffs, an Australian shepherd mix, a poodle mix and, most recently, a crazy terrier mix from the animal shelter. As I started writing this, I was down to two canines: the thirteen-year-old English mastiff and the crazy terrier. It was my Maggie, the mastiff, who had left a permanent spot in my heart. She had outlived most large breed dogs to date, not to mention that she had survived longer than both her parents and most of her siblings from other litters. She held herself proudly and became a miracle dog for my family and me. However, her life was not always kind.
