So Long Old Friend
Saying Goodbye to Max
We'll miss you buddy
by Alexandra Windsong, March 2009
©2009 Alexandra Windsong, All Rights Reserved

Two weeks ago we lost our unofficial mascot at The Healing Way, my dog Max. Many of you who have been to The Healing Way in the past few years had a chance to meet him, or perhaps you heard him bark from time to time from behind the door to my office. Max was an amazing dog, sweet, kind and gentle, a dog that everyone liked. Even people who weren't into dogs liked him. There was just something special about him. And even if you were never aware that he was in the back office at The Healing Way, he was aware of you. Watching over me and the people who came to The Healing Way, doing his job as my companion and protector, greeting people when he had the chance, adding his own special energy to The Healing Way. This is his story . . .

About four years ago, I went to the shelter just to 'see what they had'. It had been about two years since my last dog had passed and I was thinking maybe it was time to think about another one, but I wasn't entirely sure yet. As I entered the adoption area for dogs, I was immediately drawn to a large black dog that was quietly lying in his kennel. While all the other dogs were bouncing off the walls, barking and jumping up and down, this dog just continued to lay on his blanket, watching everything, including me.

After making the rounds and taking a quick look at all the dogs up for adoption, I found myself coming back around to this large black dog. He was still quiet and calm, yet he was also alert and attentive. As I walked up to his cage, he came up to the front of the kennel to greet me through the wire - no barking, no jumping, just a quiet 'hello'.

Hmmmm.....Interesting.

I took at look at the profile on his cage .....according to the information posted, he had come into the shelter as a stray. He was at least eight years old, possibly older, and he was not neutered. Their best guess as to his breed was a German Shepherd/Cattle Dog mix. (I liked shepherd mixes - brownie point for him.) He had been at the shelter since around Thanksgiving. It was now April. I was surprised that they had kept him around for so long.

Intrigued, but still unconvinced that I really wanted another dog -- I had stopped by just to ' see what they had' after all -- I decided to check him out a little further. So with the assistance of one of the shelter staff, I took him out of his kennel and out to the fenced yard outside. He sat quietly as she put a leash on him and then walked quietly with us outside. Not once did he try to jump up on me, or anyone else. He was well-mannered, calm and gentle. While I was checking him out, the shelter volunteer told me that he was a favorite of the staff and that they couldn't understand why no one seemed to be interested in adopting him. They had come to the conclusion that it had to be either his age, 8+ years, and/or his size that was putting people off. It certainly couldn't be his personality and/or disposition. And that was why they still had him. They wanted to give him the best chance to find a home that they possibly could because he was such a great guy.

I liked him. But I still wasn't entirely sure. I decided to go home and think about it. I thanked the volunteer for her help, told her I was interested and would probably be back to schedule an interview. On my way out, I stopped at the front desk to pick up a copy of his profile to take home with me. While I was waiting for the lady behind the desk to make a copy of his paperwork, the volunteer that had helped me earlier came out of the back and asked if I had time to do an interview for the dog I had been looking at.  She told me that while normally people have to wait twenty-four hours before scheduling an interview to adopt an animal -- they want people to sleep on it typically -- she felt that there was a special connection between me and that particular dog, so she had asked the interviewer if she could make an exception and interview me right then. The interviewer had said yes. I decided to talk to her.

Long story short. They approved me and a couple of days later, I had a new dog. I didn't care that he was older. For me that was a plus. No puppy or adolescent stage to deal with -- been there, done that. Didn't care for it. And because he was older, I would be looking at a 3 - 5 year commitment verses the 10 - 15 year commitment I would have if I adopted a puppy, another plus. As to his size, for me, 50 - 55 lbs isn't big for a dog. Besides, I like bigger dogs, another plus. He looked like he was going to be a good fit for me and my lifestyle at the time.

And he was. He was laid back and easygoing. He loved people and people loved him. Even my cats adored him, something he wasn't particularly thrilled about. He would have been just as happy had I never brought the cats into the house (they came along about a year after he did). But he tolerated them.

And although he wasn't particularly obedient, he was exceptionally well mannered. Not once did he ever try to jump up on anyone. He didn't goose people or lick them. He always stayed on his side of the bed, except during thunderstorms. He never got into the trash. He wasn't a pest. Once you were done petting him, he'd go lie down, happy just to be in the same room with you. Most of the time, you would forget that he was even there. And he was the only dog I ever had that didn't have to be crated at all. He didn't chew on anything, or scratch on doors, and he was 100% housebroken.

As dogs go he was very easy to live with. So what that he couldn't be trusted off leash? There were too just way too many other exciting things to go see and do in the great outdoors, to come when called. I understood that. So I never let him off leash when we were outside. So what that he was terrified of  thunderstorms and thought that the top of my head was the safest place to be during one? I never did understand that one. And believe me, 60 lbs of dog on top of your head in the middle of the night isn't fun. But it didn't matter, he was still a good dog. And, he was an old dog.

When I adopted him, he was already at least eight years old and starting to the show the first signs of old age. And in the last year, the signs of advancing old age had become more apparent. He was going blind and deaf. There were some tell tale signs that maybe some other problems were starting to develop, but nothing we could pinpoint. And he took it all in stride. Then, sadly two weeks ago, he got sick, and deteriorated rapidly over a 24 hour period. As I expected when I took him to the vet, the news wasn't good. He most likely had a tumor or was experiencing some type of organ failure or disease associated with old age.

The vet and I were in agreement. This wasn't something an antibiotic would cure and we would be fighting a losing battle if we tried to treat him. The kindest thing to do would be to let him go with peace and dignity, to end his suffering. And we did. And I cried -- a lot..

I've done this many times before -- I've had a lot of pets over the years and therefore have had to make this painful decision many times -- and it never gets any easier. But he was harder than most. I knew I was doing the right thing, but my heart was breaking. I felt like I was losing my best friend, and in a way I was. For four years, he had been my companion. He went to work with me most days. He slept in my bedroom, either on the bed itself or on the floor next to the bed. Most everywhere that I went, he went. He was a constant in my life. And now he was gone. And I was heartbroken.

And then, in the days following his passing, I found myself doing something that many people do, and not only when they have lost a pet or a loved one. I started to judge myself, to feel guilty that I hadn't been a good enough caretaker for him, that I hadn't given him enough time and attention, that I hadn't taken him for enough walks in the last year as my life got busier and I had less time for that sort of thing, that I hadn't given him enough treats, that I hadn't . . .  You get the idea.

It didn't matter that he had lived a good life with me -- that he was pretty much my constant companion. It didn't matter that . . . He was well fed. He was loved. He had a warm place to sleep every night. He wasn't chained up in the back yard and forgotten. He was a part of my family, a member of the household. It wasn't enough. I could have, should have, done better.

Instead of respecting what I had been as his caretaker, I immediately focused on what I felt, or feared, I hadn't done right. I focused on how perhaps I hadn't measured up because maybe somebody else could have done it better, or done more for him, or been more dedicated, or spent more time with him (If you've been following the story thus far, this one is really ludicrous, but logic and reason usually have very little do to with our fears and insecurities). The list goes on, and on and on.

And then it occurred to me, that this wonderful dog, who had brought so much happiness into my life in the four short years I had him, and from whom I had already learned so much, had given me yet one more gift, a new perspective. He didn't stress or worry over whether he measured up, or was good enough. He took life as it came. Happy for what he had, just being the best dog he could possibly be. And I can guarantee you that he never tortured himself with thoughts of maybe another dog could be better at being my dog than he could, that perhaps he didn't 'measure up'. 

He was special. He was unique. He was loved, just the way he was, for who he was. And he accepted that without question. He wasn't perfect. He didn't have to be. He was a wonderful dog, even with his shortcomings.  And now I know . .  . I'm like my dog. I'm not perfect. I don't have to be. I'm fine just the way I am, despite a few shortcomings.  I do the best I can. And it was, and is, enough. Just like Max, I'm not perfect. I don't have to be.

So long old pal and thanks for being my dog.

I'll miss you.

For more information about Alexandra Windsong, Spiritual & Intuitive Healer at The Healing Way, click here.

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