My Baby

Last Tuesday morning I woke up with Maddox pressed against my belly. These were my favorite mornings. Maddox preferred to sleep with his head under the bed, but every once in a while he stayed with me. He'd been there all night. Although my arm had fallen asleep hours ago, there I lay. Arms around him. My face pressed into his back. We finally made our way out of bed at our usual time of 8:45 and went for our morning walk. The boys have spent the last 3 years running free on a farm across the street from our house. It's a dog's paradise, full of lakes and creeks, cow poop and forgotten tennis balls, sticks galore and plenty of other dogs to sniff. As we set off, Maddox made his mean "I hate you because you're a dog on a leash and I was bitten by a dog on a leash, so you must be a bad dog" growl at the neighborhood bulldog. He got in the little dog's face and barked away. So I told Maddox that was very bad and put him on his leash. Scotch ran ahead of us, and as we walked together I thought, my dogs are so healthy. Nothing bad could ever happen to them. They'll live to be old, gray, lazy dogs. I truly believed this. At the end of the walk I let Maddox off his leash so he could sniff and be free and happy, and then we headed home.

A few hours later I finished an editing project that had been the bane of my existence for over a month. I was so excited to be finished and it had turned out to be such a nice day, I decided we should all go celebrate. I found Maddox asleep at the top of the stairs and told him to get his lazy butt up, we were going to play. I stuffed 3 tennis balls in my pockets, grabbed the chuckit, and we were off to the park. As soon as we hit the grass, I flung the chuckit to throw the first ball and Scotch took off. But the ball was stuck. It hadn't come out. Maddox knew - he was the smart one. So I said, "Come on boy, you go get this one," and I brought my arm back again and threw the ball. It was the first ball of the day. Maddox ran after it and as he leapt into the air to catch it, he let out a horrible yelp and collapsed to the ground. At that moment my world turned into a nightmare. For days after I tried to will myself to wake up. I was sure that it was just a bad dream, it wasn't real.

As he cried and writhed on the ground I tried to keep him still and screamed at the top of my lungs for help. We were alone in the park. Eventually strangers came out of their homes, Scotch was taken away, the vet was called, the car was driven into the park, and we were gone. I was in the backseat holding Maddox, trying to comfort him as a man I had never met before drove. The next 24 hours were filled with vets and x-rays, pain meds and sleepless nights, hope and tears, an MRI and then the room. You never want to be taken into the room. But that's what she did, and as we sat down she closed both doors. She was protecting the other people in the waiting room from the pain we were about to endure.

She said his prognosis was "horrible." He had an FCE, an embolus that had cut off the blood flow to his spinal cord that caused the paralysis of his hind legs. Most dogs do ok, but his injury was severe. A section of his spinal cord was dead and there was hemorrhaging around it. There was nothing they could do, no chance of recovery, and he could not live with this injury. We said we were taking him home.

For 3 days we didn't leave his side. We fed him filet mignon, his favorite treats, rubbed him, loved him, cried over him. We took care of his catheter, told him he was a good boy when he pooped. Tried to ease the blow of his lost dignity. A photographer came, neighbors came, friends came, flowers were delivered. There was hope of a cart, hope that they were wrong. There were second opinions, third opinions, research done. Thoughts that maybe we could make him happy, maybe we could be enough. Maddox would try to put on a brave face, give us a kiss when pressed, but other times he hid his face from us, panted anxiously, turned away from the toys he used to love. He let us know this was no life for a dog.

Saturday morning we let him rest by the fire. He hadn't slept more than an hour the night before. We stayed by his side, watched him, prayed. Later that afternoon it started snowing. It had been in the 60's for days, and it was snowing. So off we went. Jessie picked up his back end and we all walked to the park. We laid in the grass for hours. Maddox chewed sticks, let the snowflakes fall on his nose, we took pictures and tried to be grateful for that moment. We asked him what he would do that night. Would he go to the river, to the beach, would he finally catch a squirrel? When the sun started to set, Jessie picked up his back end again and let him wander in the grass. All he wanted to do was eat the sticks Scotch had been eating earlier. The sticks that had been beyond his reach. When we were ready to go inside, Maddox ran. We could hardly keep up with him, and every few seconds he looked back to make sure Jessie was still holding him up.

After another steak and half of a Woodchuck he was finally able to sleep. We laid down with him and told him the story of his life. We told him everything, all about his life in Nashville, San Diego, Memphis, and Boulder. We told him about all the friends he had made along the way. We told him every little thing we loved about him. As I laid there with his head in my lap, holding his paw, a woman came to free him from his broken body. He gave me one last kiss. We braced ourselves. Tried to be brave. Tried to breathe. We told him to fly, to have a fun ride, tell God we said hi. Told him to go to the river. Go lay in the sun and splash in the water. Told him we'd see him again. We told him we loved him over and over and over. Told him he was the best dog in the world. And then he was gone.

When she drove away with my Maddox I cried out - a sound I had never heard come out of me before. I collapsed in the driveway, snuggled contently next to someone's tire, and I waited patiently for the world to swallow me up and put me out of my misery.

Maddox was the best part of my day. He brought me more joy than anything in the world. He was my baby. My heart is broken. I want him to walk up, knock my hand off the mouse with his nose, put his paw in my hand and let me hold it the way he always did. I want him to nuzzle his nose in between my legs so I can rub his butt. I want him to crawl in my lap when I'm upset, smother me with his kisses. I want him to tell me that he's happy now. That we did the right thing. I want him to tell me how to find the grateful place in my heart. Because I really did have the best dog in the world.