Max
We put my dog to sleep today. On Thursday we found out, out of the blue, that he had a huge tumor in his chest that was pushing his heart to one side of his ribcage and making it really difficult for him to breathe.
We got Max when I was 11. I vaguely remember what it was like when he wasn’t around, but not really. For the past ten years I’ve done nothing but love him. Even when I came home from college and suddenly his care became my complete responsibility, I never resented him for it. He was always just my big, lovable, loving galoof of a dog.
I missed him a lot when I was in Russia. Whenever I saw other big dogs, I always smiled, and their Russian owners probably thought I was crazy.
He was simply a great dog. As a puppy he was a little difficult and had some biting problems, but he always was happy and always protected us and loved us. Especially when we threw the ball with him or gave him scraps of food.
I wish I could know what he was feeling these past few days, and especially this morning when we took him to the vet. We were sitting in the back seat together and I just held him and he put his head on my lap. I hope he wasn’t scared or worried. I hope he knew we loved him when he got the first shot of muscle relaxer and started to get sleepy. I hope he felt us petting him as he went, and I hope he is happily playing in dog heaven now.
He might not greet me at the door anymore, he might not hang out in the bathroom while I’m on the toilet or taking a shower, he might not do his adorable head cock when I ask him questions, but I will always love him and think of him whenever I see a happy dog playing or walking with its owner. As my mom and I always said to him, “Max is the smartest doggie in the world, the most handsome doggie in the world, and the best doggie in the world.”
