Woman's Best Friend

It is often said that dog is Man's Best Friend. Well, that may be the case but I can testify that dog can be Woman's Best Friend too. I have had a few of them, but none more so than a big, yellow dog named Max. Max was a lab-golden-husky mix like no other. I was first introduced to Max when he was about 6 weeks old after he was presented to me as an early Christmas gift from a so-called friend. Let me clarify, this so-called friend didn't earn "so-called" status because he gave me the dog (although my mother may disagree) but for many other reasons that came later and aren't worth my time, nor my energy, to write. In fact, the only good thing that loser ever did for me was give me Max.

Max was the cutest puppy EVER. I mean it. A soft yellow furball with melt your heart chocolate brown eyes. And he LOVED me. Seriously. I was living at home when I got him and my mother was less than thrilled, but she could tell from the look in my eyes that making me give Max away would have broken my heart and it would have. So Mom, again I thank you for letting me keep Max. As Max grew, he became not only bigger but also more destructive. Something about Labradors...they love to chew. He chewed the bed. He chewed shoes and socks. He chewed the window sill. He chewed my car stereo's face plate. He chewed the movie Bennie and Joon (try explaining that one to Blockbuster...not fun). And yes, he also chewed my homework. He chewed my sister's pot - for which she was irrate and narc'd on him to my mom. Not smart on either of their parts. Neither Max nor Rosie ever made that mistake again!

And, he would make more mistakes to come. Like the time he jumped out of my convertible to try to play with another dog only to have his leash get caught on the emergency break and his foot to get caught under the wheel! I panicked and was actually told by the vet that I was taking the whole incident much worse than the dog was. And then there was the time that Max swallowed one of those Godforsaken cow hooves that are sold at petstores for dog's to chew on...yeah thanks Petsmart clerk for suggesting that one. Max swallowed it whole (another thing Lab's are famous for) and needed to have it surgically removed. My instincts knew he was sick that day and I got some flack for being a worry wart when I took him to the vet. Well PHOOOEY to all of you doubters. I knew he was sick!

Countless times my Dad advised me to get rid of the dog. I am just not that way. Once I make a committment to another living thing, I mean it. Whether it be my husband, my child or my dog. I mean it. And, despite it all, Max loved me and I loved him. I often sang to him "You Are My Sunshine" because he was (stop gagging!). I loved that untamed heart of his. I loved the way he thought he was still a lap dog when he weighed 120 pounds. I loved that he hated getting his feet wet, but loved to run with his head pointed down into the snow. I loved that he always seemed to know exactly how I was feeling - knew when I was sick, knew when I was sad, knew when I was excited, knew when I was lonely, knew when I was about to do something stupid - and he always knew just to how to react each of those times. That dog saved me more than once, both from my own actions as well as those of others. He stopped a strange man from enterring my Mom's house through the side door - scared him quite well actually. He saved our airedale Watson when his chokechain became stuck on a nail on the back porch. For that one he barked at my brother's window relentlessly all the while returning to lick Watson profusely as they waited for the rescue that eventually did come thanks to Max's persistance. He, along with buddies Watson and Beau, saved my brother and the house when an unattended candle was left burning atop the television causing a small fire. Max was a hero and yes, I loved him and he loved me.

When I first met my husband, he hated dogs. In fact, Chuke would lock Max, Watson and Beau out of the room most of the time. Max made sure to change that. I cannot remember how many times I would return from work to find Max and Chuke cuddled in an embrace as they took their nap. In fact, Max eventually was even able to win over my Mom and Dad and he had Grandma Tina wrapped around his big paw so to speak. He had her trained to make to him a slice of toast - hold the butter - each time he visited. He also had her trained to chuckle fondly as he waltzed up and took a seat on her couch after eating that toast. When her toaster went out, we bought a new one for him to give her for Christmas! It was quite the sight - him sitting on her couch with the wrapped gift. She loved it!

As Max aged, he slowed a bit. But, he still loved our walks. We would walk up to the top of the Aves, past the cemetary partaking of the magnificent view of the city from the mountain, back down the hill and eventually home. And, he would patiently wait by the bathroom for some fresh water. See, Max prefered his water to come from the tub faucet. I guess it was just colder and at his height level. Yes, he loved our walks. He loved it up until I noticed he was having difficulty walking. Alarmed, I made an appointment. He had some lumps, but I thought nothing of it. He had had them before and they always ended up being fatty tissue. Only this time, it wasn't. This time it was cancer and Max needed major surgery (literally had to be cut from back to belly). Then, he needed surgery again a10 days later because they didnt' get it all. This time, a specialist was brought in. My poor dog had been cut in half and sewn back up. He hurt and so did I. All of this happened in June 2002.

Max slowly healed, but never did get back up to speed. Now, instead of meeting us at the door, we would often return home to find him resting on the bed. The long walks were just too much for him. We relished resting with him in our queen sized bed, snuggling close until he thought we were asleep and went out to his couch. A funny boy. He would always react as if he had been busted when one of us would get up to get a drink of water or go to the bathroom and see him there snoozing on the couch. I realized that my dog Max was getting older but I still allowed myself to hide behind a wall of denial to the fact that he would, as all of us eventually do, someday die. Sure, he was 9-10 years old, but I was positive that he still had a few more good years in him. I mean, the dog had undergone major surgery - TWICE - and just needed time and patience to get back to his old self.

Just after that Christmas, we went to Disneyland with my extended family in an effort to help my sweet cousins celebrate the anniversary of their dear Mother's passing from metastatic breast cancer the very year before. We didn't want them to be stuck in Denver mourning but rather celebrating the wonderful life of their Mother in Disneyland. It was a special trip for all of us filled with many heartfelt memories that I shall treasure all of my life.

When we returned home, we immediatly went to pick up Max from my uncle. He was so happy to see us, and so happy to go home. We had bought him a Pluto Christmas stocking to hang up the next year because Pluto reminded us of him. And, as always, we tried to erase our guilt from leaving him with countless treats, crumbles of toast and warm corn tortillas (another favorite).

On January 6, 2003, I left work with an extra spring in my step. Somebody had forgotten to tell Mother Nature that it was January in Utah. The sun was out, the air was crisp but not too cold, no snow on the ground, even the grass was green! As I signed out at work, I told my boss that I was going to go home and walk Max because it was so nice out. When I got there and asked Max if he wanted to go for a walk, he immediatly began jumping up and down excitedly. I grabbed the leash and off we went. We didn't get far. Only 1 house away in fact.

Max was sniffing the ground when he suddenly stopped and looked at me. I tried to urge him on but instead he wavered for a brief moment and seemed to sit down, but not in his usual way. Instead, his back legs seemed to slowly collapse beneath him. I realized something was dreadfully wrong and deep down, I think I knew that he was in the process of dying on me. I helped him lay down, took his head in my hands and whispered for him to get up and that everything was going to be ok. I gave him a kiss and then got up and ran to the house and frantically screamed for my husband to come outside. When I came back to Max, his eyes were closed. He opened them to our voices, but couldn't seem to move.

We tried to carry him, but he was so heavy. Chuke ran in to get a blanket to carry him on as I moved the car closer. Then Chuke told me that Max seemed to be looking for me. I took his head onto my lap and softly caressed his soft fur. I told him I love him and he relaxed. I think that he died at that moment. The next few moments are a blur - except for the moment that I let go of Max's head to try to pet his back. That is a moment I can't seem to forget. Sweet Max's head just fell to the ground. A man had stopped to help us, as did a woman who kindly called ahead to our vet. Our sweet neighbor and his son ran out to help too, his son trying unsuccessfully to perform mouth-to-snout on our dog. We loaded Max into the car and sped away, me in the backseat with the dog. I tried to resucitate him again, but it was no use. I ended up just holding him and crying as I tried to memorize his features, his beautiful eyes and the touch of his soft fur. He was gone. My life had forever changed. My best friend had died in my arms and left me alone.

In my life, I have lost a very anticipated child whom I loved beyond words far before a devastating miscarriage took it away from me. I have lost Grandparents who taught me much and whom I adored. I have lost my aunt Mary who I was especially close too and still miss a great deal. I have also lost other pets, the first named Tipee who was stolen from me as a child; Daisy who was given away when I was teenager by the Devil (a.k.a. my wicked stepfather); Beau who loved to snuggle and was put to sleep when his legs went out and the mischievious Watson who was a much loved-character by all but was also put to sleep when his legs went out too. Each loss was devastating. Each loss was painful beyond belief. Each death was different.

It is hard for me to believe now, but within 2 years, I had a miscarriage, watched my aunt lose her battle to breastcancer and sat with my beloved pup as he died in my arms. A very dark cloud was following me and it all seemed to come crashing down on me at once after Max died. Max had been there by my side after those other losses, but now he was gone. I had often dreaded the moment he would die. Morbid I know, but I wasn't sure what I would do without him. The realization that he was gone was too much. We all cried like babies, none more so than me all because Maxi Moomers was gone. My house was eerily quiet and empty. My heart was breaking yet again.

Just over a week later, we adopted Bella. The house was just too quiet and I know that my husband was worried about me. And, he fell in love with Bella who was a pup at the time and cute as could be. She looked NOTHING like Max, which actually helped. Then, months later, we opened our home to Allie who also needed a family. She is A LOT like Max, but still her own unique self too. No, Bella and Allie were not adopted to replace Max. No dog could replace Max as far as I am concerned. Just as no dog will ever be able to replace Bella and Allie either. They were sent to us for a reason too, just as Max was. I don't question timing or fate, I just somehow know that events and things have some sort of purpose and I am so glad that Gabby has the opportunity to grow up with two of Girls Best Friends too. Someday, I shall write about how special Allie and Bella are to me too. But today is dedicated to Max.

I do believe that there are animals in Heaven, and if there are not I am not so sure that I want to go there. I personally think Heaven is made up of all of those we love and since I will always love Max, it only makes sense that he be there too. A Heaven without those we love just doesn't sound like Heaven to me.

To this day, I still cry over losing Max. Those of you out there who think people should quickly get over the loss of a pet just don't get it. Such people have obviously missed out on the love and joy having a wonderful pet can bring. For that alone, I pity them.

Max is still alive in my heart. There is a reason he was such a big part of my life and I honestly believe - no I KNOW - that he saved me. And, just has he was here for a purpose there is also a reason he is now gone. My life is so different now. Many of my dreams have been answered in Gabby. I am a mother to a child and that has put my life into a new perspective. Max helped to prepare me for the life that laid ahead of me, and I protected and loved him in return.

Somehow I know that I will always think of Max often and love him forever. He comforted me when I cried, celebrated with me when I laughed, rested with me when I slept, thought I was the GREATEST cook in the world and loved me just as I was. Yes, dog is also woman's best friend and I will always be thankful for my dear canine friend Max. So, on this day, I honor my good buddy who was really my furbaby.

Cheers Max and thank you for everything. I hope you and Tipee and Daisy and Watson and Beau are having a wonderful time over the Rainbow Bridge. I will miss you always until we meet again - which I know we will.