“A dog
is the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself.”
(Josh
Billings)
“Dogs
are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole.”
(Roger
Caras)
In Alcoholics Anonymous they say, “Shit
happens” . . . especially when you least expect it and want it. This morning, around 10AM, our Boxer—Maddie Rose—suffered
a seizure and died. Our son, number 2,
who has Epilepsy witnessed it all and tried in vain to help her . . . but to no
avail. I got the tearful phone call at
work around 10:30AM . . . he couldn’t get a response out of her . . . through
his tears he thought she was dead. I was
floored as I left the conference call I was in, attempting to console him and
tell him that everything was okay . . . all the while I could feel the shards
of my broken heart falling . . . falling.
I could feel the tears swelling up in my eyes . . .
Needless to say, I did not make it through
the conference call. I excused myself
and went home . . . it was the longest forty minute commute I have ever
experienced. I fought my tears all the
way home in hopes that Maddie Rose would be okay, all the while knowing that
she was dead. Isn’t that what we
do? Hope for the best when we know that
the worse has already happened . . . I don’t do well with a broken heart . . .
who does?
Maddie Rose entered my life over nine
years ago as a itty bitty puppy. She was
the 11th of 12 puppies, and she became the caboose when #12
died. She was the runt of the litter who
was lovingly nursed to health by my friend.
She was presented to me while I was in the hospital recovering from my
very first hernia surgery—in which I caught pneumonia and ended up spending a
week in the hospital. She was brought to
me to cheer me up. It was love at first
sight. From then on she became my
constant companion . . . for years, everywhere I went, she went. Always by my side.
Hours later, as I write this, she is
gone . . . she has died. Like everyone
who loses a loved one to death, I have gone through all of the feelings and
emotions. This morning was one of those
rare mornings when I did not have the opportunity to have my “Maddie time” as I
was leaving early—3:30AM early—to take the oldest son to the airport. I did not get the chance to say hello—or even
goodbye—to Maddie before I left . . . a daily ritual we always shared when I
was preparing to leave. I am angry about
that . . . but, the angry only shadows the sadness and grief I am really
feeling. Yeah, I have been through them
all . . . sadness, anger, guilt, loneliness . . . I don’t think I have missed
any of them . . . they were, and are, at the party. None of it replaces Maddie’s presence in my
life . . . I miss my dog.
Who wouldn’t?
Maddie Rose was the best dog I have ever
had. She was faithful . . . caring . . .
gentle . . . she was a lover. They say
that Boxers are the world’s biggest lap dogs, and Maddie sure loved the
lap. She always had to be touching . . .
reminding you that she was there. She
was the world’s best greeter—didn’t matter if you had been gone for a year or
ten minutes, she was always there, leaning against you, wagging that stub of a
tail, licking your face—the Boxer dance of joy.
God, I loved being greeted with such enthusiasm. She made me feel as if I was someone
important when no one else seemed to care.
She was gentle . . . and, she was an
introvert. She was a shy dog that took
her time sizing up people before she welcomed them into her world, but once she
did . . . watch out! She was your best
friend, and she had lots of best friends.
She was quiet . . . she rarely barked, but when she did . . . you had
better listen. People were always
surprised when she barked because she had such a deep voice. Her bark was way worse than her bite . . .
she never bit anyone or anything . . . she was a lover, not a fighter.
This probably sounds like a lot of
rambling around, but isn’t that what we do when we lose someone or something
that we love to the core of our being . . . we ramble. All I know is that I lost a being that was
dear to my heart . . . a companion who shared my life with me . . . who cared
about me . . . who loved me . . . and I love her equally as well . . . and, now
she is gone. Like a flash of lightening
. . . she has disappeared into the darkness.
Who would have thought that over nine years ago that the two of us would
have crossed a line, jumped into a world of life’s endless possibilities for
wonder and joy and surprise of what we would experience together. She had me from that very first moment when
she leaped up those hospital covers, shoved her face into mine, and gave me
that great big puppy kiss. I was hers
and she was mine.
Carolyn Parkhurst writes: “The conclusion I have reached is that,
above all, dogs are witnesses. They are allowed access to our most private
moments. They are there when we think we are alone. Think of what they could
tell us. They sit on the laps of presidents. They see acts of love and
violence, quarrels and feuds, and the secret play of children. If they could
tell us everything they have seen, all of the gaps of our lives would stitch
themselves together.”
The stitch has been broken . . . I
miss my dog. I will dream of her and
gentle, sloppy dog kisses. Maddie Rose
will be missed . . . by me, by the family, and by the countless people whose
lives she has touched. She was a gift .
. . a blessing . . . and, we just do not get enough of those in our lives. I wish I could stitch it all back together
again . . .
1 comment:
Some of the biggest losses in my life are from the loss of my pets. I still have Buster's ashes waiting to be buried, that's after 4 years. My application for Seminary over 45 years ago was written right after my beloved Terrier Spotty died. It was about dogs in heaven.
You are in my heart John.
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