Maggie is in Doggy Heaven.

Maggie

Age 13, October 06, 1995 - September 18, 2009

A constant and faithful friend. She stood beside me in good times and bad. Beautiful. Smart. Strong.

Nickname: Laura Winn

My Girl Maggie.

She had her good days and she had her bad days. Just like anyone else who has managed to make it passed that milestone we call “average life expectancy” - whatever that is. At 14, she still managed to wag her tail, and every once in a while I would catch a glimpse of the dog I had known and loved for so many years. Those glimpses were few and far between now but they were precious.

Last week, she got up early, bolted out the door and ran back and forth in the yard. When she came back in she cruised through the door with that prissy little walk that I always teased her about - head held high, chest puffed out, ears perked up and bouncing on the tips of her toes. Today, was a different day.

We both knew that it was coming. We both knew that choices had to be made. She knew she was tired and struggling. I knew I loved her and didn’t want to let her go. Maybe I would take her to the vet, and like the million times before they would say, “oh, it’s no big deal. We can treat it with a little medicine and she’ll be good as new tomorrow.” That’s one of the things I loved about her was her resilience and her tenacity. Just when you thought she was out she would surprise you. She was a tough old girl. Always quick to defend herself, but always quick to protect those she loved.

She was shaking when we got to the vets offices. We both were. We waited. They called her name. We walked in. Dr. Simmons put her up on the table and she looked over at me to make sure I was still there. I gave her a pat on the head and a smile. There were questions. There were answers. There were the creases in the doctors forehead that told me what I already knew. I thought I was prepared. I had been giving myself the same old speech - “I don’t want her to suffer. She’s been a good dog and lived a good life. It is her time.” Inside I just wanted to scream “NO! Not my girl!”

Before husbands and before babies there was Maggie. Almost my entire adulthood had been lived with her by my side. There were times in my life when I suffered unspeakable pain and loss and she instinctively knew what I needed. She would curl up in my arms, burry her head in my chest and just sigh. We would lay like that for hours. When I brought my babies home she was the first one at the door. A little unsure if they would be permanently staying but deeply curious about who they were. She didn’t love everyone. She loved only me and tolerated everyone else. That’s what good dogs do.

Now my good dog is having some tests run. Her last shot and the hope of “maybe ... just maybe”. They brought me into the examining room again, where I waited. As I sat there alone in I could see shadows of peoples feet as they walked by the door. I was waiting for the shadows to stop and hesitate in front of my door. One by one they passed. Until finally, I could see them stop and I hear the rattle of the chart on the door. “Oh, please let it be another Maggie bounce back. Oh please don’t take my girl.”

It wouldn’t be another bounce back. She wouldn’t be getting better and she would suffer greatly. Decisions had to be made. How do you decide to take the life of your best friend? How do you decide that you want to wake up every day and not see her wagging tail and gentle face? You do it when you know that it’s not about you - it’s about her and her “quality of life”.

They brought her in. She was scared and so was I. I don’t care how ready you think you are for this you never are and never will be. She was so happy to see me. I was so happy to see her. I held her face in my hands and cried like a child. She buried her face in my chest and held it there. I rubbed her ears. She gave a little moan. I told her she was a good dog and that I loved her. We stayed like that for a while with the doctor looking on and giving us our space. I pulled her face up to mine. Looked her in the eye and thanked her for giving me the best years of both of our lives and for sharing the journey with me. Then I gave the doctor the nod.

I haven’t cried like this in years. Most importantly, if I had she was there to comfort me. Who will comfort me now? Where is my girl? I need her desperately. Is there any comfort? I guess there is the cliche comfort in knowing she is in a better place. I imagine that she is running along a beach somewhere, playing in the surf, bouncing along the sand, happy. I imagine that she is young again. Tall and proud. Healthy, warm and happy. She waits for me. I know I will see her again. We will play and walk together again some day. My faithful and loyal friend.

So, I get up each day. Think about some funny thing she did or even some bad thing she did and I smile. She will always be a part of me. Life does go on, but it’s never quite the same. The house is eerily quiet now, but I can still hear her toes clicking on the tile floor sometimes. I can still feel the softness of her fur. I can still feel her love. Goodbye my old friend. You are gone, but not forgotten. I love you.