I remember the day my dad brought her home. Maggie, german shepherd/greyhound mix. Sounds like a strange mix but she was beautiful. Her paws were much too big for her body. Her one ear was folded upwards and I worried that it might be hurting her. She was shy and she ate everything. I can’t even count on four paws how many of my toys she chewed that year. But I loved her from the second I laid eyes on those big, brown, beady eyes. I was six and she was just a year old.

She’d been abused in her home before being shipped off to the shelter. She was scared, her whole life she spent in fear. Hats, dark hair, hoods, facial hair, thunder, yelling, any man who wasn’t my dad; would all set her off into a panic. I wanted to protect her from everything.

There was a storm the first week she moved into our house and she was terrified. She jumped up onto the foot of my bed and nuzzled up with me. That was the beginning of 7 years sleeping together. I would read her stories in bed. She would nuzzle up on my feet to keep them warm. I doubt she knew she was warming but I liked to think she did. She became my best friend. When I cried, she licked my tears. When I was anxious, she cuddled up next to me. When I was home alone, she sat with me.

This is what pets are for. When you need to care for someone they need you. And when you need them, they want to care for you in return. They want to go where you go. They gun it anytime you get ice cubes. They sit at your foot while the family eats dinner. They come running when you grab the leash from the laundry room. They love you infinitely and unconditionally. Here’s why dogs are so much better than humans… nothing you do or say will turn they away from you. They’re your best friend. They’re the happiest beings on the planet. All they need is food and love. Scratch their belly, rub behind their ear and instantly they're in love.

Maggie was the happiest person I knew. And I say, person, because she was a person to me. I told people I had a sister for years. I’m the only girl either of my parents had but I still had a sister. As she got near the end, 14-years-old, she got sick. She didn’t run when I put ice in my glass. She didn’t get up when I went for her leash. She couldn’t jump up on my bed and eventually she couldn’t get up the stairs. I got the call as I was doing homework in my dorm room. The you-might-want-to-come-home call, the it-doesn’t-look-so-good call. Tears burned my eyes as I told my mom I would never forgive her if she brought Maggie to the vet that day. “I have an exam tomorrow and you want me to come home to say goodbye to my dog before you murder her?!” I was furious. After unfairly calling my mom a killer a half a dozen times and referring to euthanasia as murder a few times, my mom agreed she would wait. I went home for break the next weekend.

Maggie couldn’t hold her body weight. Her hips wouldn’t let her hoist herself up. I sat next to her on her bed and cried. I felt guilty for making her suffer a week longer just because I wasn’t ready to let go. We had the last supper—steak. She had a whole filet to herself. At around midnight everyone went to bed but I slept on the floor with Maggie because she couldn’t get upstairs. After she outgrew my bed she started sleeping between mine and my brother’s room. My dad said she was guarding us. I could tell it hurt her that she couldn’t be our guardian anymore. So it was my turn to be hers. We fell asleep for a bit but eventually she had to go to the bathroom. I carried her to the backyard, as far as I could anyway. I sat outside with her for a while waiting, when she was ready I tried to lift her hips, I called her, I offered her treats to come in, I tried to carry her. Eventually I came to the conclusion that she wanted to be outside. She wanted to go out alone, cold and outside. I wouldn’t let her be alone because I knew she wouldn’t let me if the roles were reversed. So we laid out in the cold for about an hour and I tried to fall asleep. Finally she got up, and we went inside and we slept together for one last time but this time we shared her bed.

The next morning my parents went to put her out of her misery. And understanding her pain now, I wondered why we aren’t that kind to human beings as well. Why do we let the people and the animals we love suffer? I still live with the guilt that she suffered an extra week because I was too selfish to let go. I felt like a part of me was missing. I couldn’t breathe. Doctors said something about “emotional shock”. It’s not uncommon, apparently. When I come home for long weekends and breaks I wait for her to come rushing out on the front lawn. When I open the freezer for ice, I listen to hear her paws against the hardwood floors. When I let our other dog out, I wait for her to come. Sometimes I catch myself just forgetting. I’m not doing anything special, I just forget that she’s gone. And when I remember it’s like she dies all over again.

You have to have a pet to understand when someone says that their family. Not a dog, just a pet. Losing Maggie was like losing a sibling. Someone who loved me so unconditionally was just... gone. It’s been 7 months but I still look to make sure I won’t step on her when I walk to the bathroom at night. She’s gone but the joy and love she gave me never will be. She was irreplaceable, as most pets… most people, are.

In Loving Memory - Maggie Howell