At the end of his oh-too-brief life I simply kissed Mr. Max on the muzzle and said: “I love you, Baby, and I’ll always love you.” And then the vet came into the room and did what we had given him leave to do.
And I am not ashamed to say it was the most heart-wrenching moment of my life in my recall. I felt no such sense-of-loss when my parents died. That perhaps says something about either them or me, I don’t really care what it says. I still cannot get my head around the fact that Max will never again be with me.
I have had people in my life whom I have loved dearly, and still have some of them. And I have had pets – I’m a big animal lover – that also meant the world to me. But there was something about Max that was unique and made his presence in our home a blessing from the first day we encountered him in his little slammer cell at the SPCA. I knew in my gut and my soul he was the one.
Despite his mongrel heritage, he was a very, very handsome critter. Everybody said so. And he was ‘nice’, oh so nice. “Max is a gentleman,” said the neighbor who was charged with his care when we went on vacation. And he was.
In all the years we had (too few) he never damaged anything, he never climbed on the furniture, not that we would have really cared. He was never loud and barky. He was scrupulously clean. In truth, he was minus any of the flaws that other dog owners must contend with.
And he was friendly. Oh so friendly, and that was why everybody knew ‘Max’ and everybody loved him with a vengeance.
I could write much more but my eyes are getting bleary and I know they will for a time. I just wanted to leave a few words of testament to an amazingly wonderful dog and I only hope the pain in my heart will abate in time.
“We were honored” by having Max in our lives, said Wendy, and I could not state the reality better.
Rest in Peace my dear, dear boy, and thank you for all you gave us. I only wish it could have been for longer.