His

pill bottles line the kitchen counter.  His joys are few, his hardships

many. Eyes cloudy, hearing poor, his back is swayed, his legs ache, and

no longer can he get up and walk on his own.  He sleeps his days away,

fitfully. His family remains, but his friends are gone. Embarrassed by

his incontinence, slowed by age and old wounds, he has lost the

playfulness that once defined him.  With no complaint he has walked his

path in life and now has reached its end.  Tonight I sit with him, the

last we'll spend together, to see my friend through these final hours

until all is done.

I will remember Max as he is now, as we

all will one day be, old and frail and broken by age. But I will also

remember more than that, I will remember him in many ways.

At

first he was Dasher, a little dog lost.  He was a rescue pet when we

brought him home, a pathetic one at that. When we first saw him he lay

in his crate, never barking or moving like the other dogs around him,

head on his paws with eyes fixed on the floor. Only six weeks old having

been left in the woods, with a hole in his ear that never healed where

something chewed on him, fur falling out from malnutrition, had to be

hand fed and needed to be carried outside to do his business.  If any

dog needed a family this one was it. A year later with much love and

patience from the three of us he was healthy, happy and full of life. 

He was Max, Boo-Man, Maxbazillion, Mad Max, Goob, Maxwell.  On his one

year anniversary we took him back to the pet rescue to show them how he

had recovered and the woman who adopted him out to us broke down and

cried.

He had his moments. Chewing the face off a dog

statue at my parents' home, eating an arm off my mother's living room

chair.  Terrible teething because he had two extra fangs that had to be

removed.  Passing obedience class in what was surely a case of grade

inflation.  He slept on our bed and each night seemed to morph into a

Great Dane that took up half the bed.  But his puppyhood was mere

prologue.  He is a dog I will love always; for many reasons we called

him special. The way he stared at the ceiling fan, how he dread riding

in the car, sipping dark beer and daiquiris from my glass, chasing

squirrels, taking the bones Honey shared with him, the careless way he

banged into walls and doorways, his handsome features which prompted one

stranger to say, "he could be a movie star dog", the way he liked to

lay not just at our feet, but on our feet, the joy for life he shared

with us.

For he was fast. 

He ran

with the deer and roamed the woods freely.  He loved to be off leash on

open ground to wander unfettered and relished the chance to come running

back and bowl me over as I waited crouched for his speedy return.  He

loved nothing more than to chase a ball down our long hallway to return

sprinting into the living room and jump onto the old bean bag chair we'd

given him as a bed only to slide full speed on it until it stopped

against the hearth.  And then do it over and over again.

For he was playful. 

When

he was a puppy he liked to pick up pebbles, throwing them down and

prancing around them such that we called his behavior the Pebble Dance.

He loved to be chased around the backyard, always dodging and evading

our every effort to catch him only to return and dodge some more.  He so

enjoyed wrestling with Allie on the floor, nipping at her ears and

barking while she giggled along.  Max relished the challenge of standing

in the doorway as I shot a tennis ball soccer style, trying to slip it

past him in a game we called shot-on-dog.  He was overjoyed to fetch

balls and sticks, but though he'd bring them back to you then it was his

turn to call the shots as he would taunt you with it, never getting out

of reach, but never surrendering either until you got hold and then

fighting you with all his 45 pounds in a fierce tug-of-war. 

For he was strong.

He

was fearless of other creatures, reigning over his neighborhood for

more than a decade chasing cat, dog, squirrel, possum or whatever other

four legged interloper dared to cross his path.  He walked, oh how he

walked.  For more then 10 years Max was my daily companion at 5am

walking around the neighborhood before work, we covered over 2,000 miles

together on foot and paw. He loved to go to the Hammock or up on campus

or out to the Devil's Millhopper with Diane and I and walk for miles. 

He expected to take a hike with me every Saturday and Sunday up the

wooded easement, off leash for a relaxing stroll. 

He was

Max and he knew no half measure in life. He shredded every toy he was

ever given. Knotted ropes were threads in mere days.  Plastic squeaker

toys were rendered into so much chewed confetti in minutes. Stuffed

animals were eviscerated with glee - save one, his lamb.

For he was loyal. 

Our

family was his pack.  And in his home he was never fully happy unless

the entire pack was together.  Allison would be out at night, past when

Diane and I would go to bed, but Max would lay by the front door and

hold an unbroken solitary vigil until she returned.  Each night at dark

he began the task of trying to herd us to bed.  He would not lie down

next to our bed to sleep until everyone else had gotten into theirs

first. He has been Allison's companion from 9 to almost 25.  He has been

the first to enthusiastically greet her when she came home from

elementary school through now as she completes her Master's program. She

has grown from childhood to adulthood always having Max as her devoted

friend. But it wasn't just our family he was loyal to. 

His

best friends besides us were Jake and later Honey who belonged to our

next door neighbor Ellie.  Ellie died unexpectedly last year and Honey

moved away, but to this day if Max were in the front yard he'd sit and

look down the cul de sac waiting for them to come home from their walk

so that he could greet them as he had so many times before.

When

he was younger we used to take a regular walk on a path that went past a

backyard where an older dog named Sadie lived.  Sadie would come to her

fence and Max would meet her.  They'd sniff and whine a little at one

another and then off we'd go.  Time passed, our walking routes changed

and I forgot about Sadie. Several years later - long after Sadie must

have passed - we took that old route again. Max stopped, went to the

fence and sat, waiting for his friend now long since gone to return. I

called and called trying to get him to come, but still he stayed.  With

tears in my eyes I pulled him away and as we walked on he kept looking

back, certain his friend would soon come to him.  

Now it

is we who will look down for our absent friend on walks, catching

ourselves saving some scraps on our dinner plates.  We will wince at

seeing the empty spots where his bowl and bed, his toys and leash once

were. There will be times where out of habit we go to toss him a piece

of lunch meat as we make sandwiches only to realize there is no Max. 

Now we will be the ones who keep looking back for a friend who is no

longer there.

For he is gone.

Rest easy our trusting, loyal, friend; you were deeply loved and will always be fondly remembered.