Musings, reflections, wisecracks from a somewhat creative mind

Archive for May, 2011

Life is Different Now

Wow. Things have really changed since Max’s passing.

It’s quiet in my house.

No more clicking nails on the hardwood floor.

No incessant coughing (the poor dog).

No more yelling by me to make him stop whatever he was doing that was annoying. (Jumping on me, “making a nest”, stealing food/treats, barking AT me for food/bed time/or whatever he wanted at the time.)

No more Maxie begging to come up on my lap or on the couch. And then he would jump down, walk around a little … and then beg to come back up on the couch. This was several times per evening.

No more repetitive licking licking licking of his legs, tearing the hair out.

No more “accidents” – except I think they weren’t accidents. I think he really did forget his housetraining. I think maybe he forgot the difference between outside and inside.

There’s more. I just can’t think of it right now.

He was a real and powerful presence just for the fact of his energy and activity.

We – me, Amber, Chloe – are all just laying around, feeling sorry for ourselves.

I have to create another culture in my household. Because Max’s life has ended. Because he’s not here anymore.

Make no mistake – I know I did the best and the right thing putting him down. He didn’t know up from down. He couldn’t keep his back legs straight. He bumped into things because he couldn’t see them – and it really bothered him.

We all just miss the little bugger.

A Dog Never Lies About Love

What can one say about a dog like Max?

  • He was first and foremost utterly devoted to me. He jumped into my arms the first time we met. (He was 6 years-old then.) He never wavered. Ever.
  • He was a tenacious protector of his home. You couldn’t stop the barking barking barking. Once he lost most of his hearing … well … he was still the protector. He just didn’t perceive the threats. Like the mail truck, the squirrels, the stray falling leaf …
  • He ADORED his treats. He would get nearly apoplectic when treat time rolled around.
  • He knew how to spit out the food he didn’t want a leave it all over the house.
  • He knew where I was at every moment – followed me around the house. OR he preceded me, creating a potential fall accident.
  • He was always moving – licking, pacing – unless he was sleeping.
  • He snored.
  • He would tuck his head up under my chin and press his little body up against mine. It was so affectionate and endearing.
  • He was a breast man. He loved to sit in my lap and “brundage”. Snort snort.
  • He was happy! Joyful!
  • He was curious, inquisitive. How many times did he stand in a lap with his little head 2 inches from the face and stare into the eyes with this look of total curiosity. Those dark, sparkling eyes were beautiful.
  • He was a spark, a bright light, a star.
  • He was the moon to my earth. The earth to my sun.

I had him put down this afternoon. He had suddenly gotten old. He’d been terminally ill but maintained with medications. Then the cataracts surfaced and bloomed. He couldn’t handle not seeing well. He was confused and frustrated. It was his time.

The veterinarian, Kathy Murphy, and her staff were WONDERFUL. Very understanding and caring. Kathy snipped a lock of his hair for me. I loved his scent. Now I’ll have it when I need a dose.

He’ll live in my heart forever.

Rest in peace, Boy-o. 

Sit … No! Not you!

I haven’t posted anything for a while – not for lack of material, mind you but lack of time and/or energy. Here’s something you may think is cute.

After doggie dinner, doggies get chewy treats. It’s the other highlight of their day, the other being my arrival on scene after work. Treats are given in order – alpha (Amber), pest (Max), then well-behaved (Chloe). All must sit first and that is understood.

Amber will sit – eventually. The first issue is, she doesn’t do commands very well. Another issue is, she can’t really hear or see well anymore so it is POSSIBLE she didn’t hear the command. Uh-huh. Once she ever-so-slowly sits, I proffer the treat. She lunges for it with a mighty mini-poodle-snort. She snaps, she … misses. Comes up short. (Like I said, her vision is poor, especially depth perception.) So I have to maneuver the blasted treat between her jaws.

Once Amber is done, it’s down to Max and Chloe. Max is so excited he’s jumping and quivering and I suspect he doesn’t remember HOW to sit, nor can he hear the command. Chloe is so excited, she’ll do ANYTHING you tell her to do. Here’s what happened a couple of evenings ago:

Me to Max: Sit.

Max doesn’t sit.

Chloe quickly sits.

Me to Max: Sit!

Max doesn’t sit.

Chloe’s bones hit the floor as she speedily lays down.

Me to Max: SIT!

Max doesn’t sit.

Chloe sits.

I turn to Chloe and say: Sweetheart, I don’t mean you.

Then Max sits.

I give him the damn treat.

Me to Chloe: Sit.

She sits. She gets the treat. Fabulous!