I was about 7 years old. Mom was stressing out, driving like a maniac to get to the pound. We were late, but arrived just in time to beat out the next person who wanted our puppy. We walked in and saw him--a little fur ball, shy and uncertain about these people charging through the doors toward him.
Our hearts instantly melted. Let’s just say, we were all positive this dog was meant to be ours. And fortunately, he was. As soon as we returned home with a shaking, frightened little puppy, I insisted on sleeping in his cage with him. Of course, mom and dad refused my proposal. So, late after everyone had gone to bed, I quietly-or so we think when are young and naïve- banged through the bathroom finding a blanket and a pillow in the cupboard. I tiptoed down the stairs to the laundry room. There he was. He, an adorable creature I saw as a friend in need of some company.
For the next 15 long years, he sat by our sides. From going camping, on walks, running back in the woods, to simply lying at the ends of our beds at night and making us feel safe when it was dark and there were questionable noises throughout the house.
In his younger days, he was my running partner. He refused to let me lead him, instead dragging me behind his energetic little feet and constantly jerking to the side following a smell or taking a bathroom break...which occurred often. He would be my nap partner as well. Sunday afternoons, we could be found lying in the sunlight from the window, soaking up the warmth that Michigan could not give outside. He was my guard when I was home alone, always barking when he heard something. At the time I was convinced this was his way of scaring anything and everything off. He would always come into my room when I was afraid. Or, at least he’d stay by the door while I locked him in with me to feel better. Admit it, we’ve all done it.
Later on, he was perfect company for walking downtown early mornings to get a clear head and a joy to have in the passenger seat on warm days-- sticking his hairy head out the window, tongue wagging, ears flapping. (While doing a great job of putting his hair all over my car…)
Eventually, he got lazier and I got busier. Those special things we shared were rare now. I was the one to lead him now, too tired to continue on for very long. He had a hard time climbing the steps to my room, making the nights a little lonelier. We could all see the age in his walk, as well as his hearing and appearance all together. He wasn’t quite living life the way he used to.
It was time to make a decision, one I avoided and wanted no part of. Being four hours away at school made it easier to ignore. Until the day they sent me his picture at the vet and told me it would be the last. My heart sank. All those moments we were able to share came flooding back. I am blessed to say that I have never lost someone close to me and I thank God for that often. Looking back however, Max was a part of our family and when we lost him, we lost a member of our family as well.
Coming home from college always has a little sting when I open the door and he’s not there to bark and howl to say hello. All dog owners know that they are truly the best welcomers. I could feel the absence and still do once in a while. However, I can then look back and acknowledge all of those memories which are some of my life’s greatest, and know that he was the best friend I could have asked for.