Re: Max, the vet said we’d know when it was time, and we think it’s time . . .

Max is 14 and was diagnosed with liver cancer a few months ago.  The vet said we’d know when it was time, and Joe and I think it’s time.  I’m going to take some space here to reflect on Max — the good, the bad, the furry.  If you know him, please feel free to post your memories of him!

I got Max in January ’98 when I lived and worked at the Catholic Worker in Tacoma, WA.  In retrospect, getting a pet without getting approval of all the members of the community ranks as one of the top violations of living in community!  At the time, though, I just wanted a dog.  I had visited the animal shelter off and on for weeks but had not met the right dog.  When I met Max, he was the quiet one, sitting all alone and scared, quiet, in a cage.  I was immediately drawn to his huge Shepherd ears and his long legs — THIS would be a great watchdog and walking partner!  I asked to visit him outside his kennel, and he was WILD.  I chalked it up to him being cooped up all day and said I’d think about it and come back tomorrow.  They told me that today was his last day (sucker!!), so I signed some papers and put him in my car.

Off to Target I went, thinking he’d sit nicely in the car while I shopped for bowls, food, etc.  He did sit nicely and watch me walk into the store.  This is gonna be awesome, I thought.  Until I got back — he had destroyed my car, nearly ripping my seatbelt in half, getting dog goo all over the windows, and taking my Mt. Dew out of the cup holder and quite possibly drinking it.  Yet I still drove him home.

Max was unruly, to put it mildly.  We went to obedience classes (coming in 2nd — beat by a poodle.  A poodle??!) and even worked one-on-one with an animal behaviorist.  He always performed well under pressure, but when I was in charge away from the instructor, he was completely out of control.  He chased squirrels, hated people wearing hats, lunged at small children, drug me on the leash, barked excessively, and stole food whenever he got the chance.  But I loved him dearly — and defended him no matter what.  He was MY dog, and, by golly, he was the best dog ever.

Fast forward to when Joe and and I got our first house.  I chained Max to the back steps while I worked outside, and he promptly ran down the alley, dragging the steps behind him.

We became foster parents to our now-daughter, and I was terrified that Max would be a terrible companion.  Did he prove me wrong!  Perhaps it was all the food she dropped on the floor.  Or perhaps it was because “dog” was one of her first words.  But Max loved Samantha.  Still does.

Max has turned into a great family dog.  Yes, he still hates the postal carrier.  And he still steals food right out of your hand.  And he barks waaaay too much.  But he’s MY dog.  And, by golly, he’s the best dog ever.