[Dailydrool] The Life of Maggie

Sun Feb 10 12:07:47 PST 2013

The Life of MaggieTim...what an exquisite ode to your Maggie; just lovely.   Thank you.  

Joey ~~  Mom to the Okie-Dokie 6 
  ----- Original Message ----- 
  From: Tim Mayer 
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  In keeping with my recent history of writing memorials for my dogs, I'm going to indulge myself one more time and write an essay sharing the life of Maggie with my friends. (And I hope I don't need to do this again for many, many years.) Maggie left us almost a week ago, but please bear with me as I reminisce.

  Maggie was a leftover. An unwanted dog. The family who had her told me they were going to dump her at the animal shelter, because they were moving to Alaska and didn't want to take her there. But they were taking their other dogs.hmmm.first sign of trouble? She was young, about a year old, skinny, and very clingy. Needy. Little did I know just how needy she was. But after evaluating the puppy for a weekend, I made Maggie an official member of the family. It was early November, so I called her my birthday present. And not knowing exactly how old she was, from then on we shared my birthday as if it was hers as well.

  This skinny, clingy girly quickly became a problem. She tore up the house. Not just the things in the house, but the house itself. She chewed up the furniture. She chewed up the carpet - I still have large duct tape patches where she shredded it. She chewed through the cabinet walls to get inside. She even chewed the corners off the brick hearth. Well, it was winter, and too cold to keep her outside. And besides, she chewed up everything out there too! So I kept her inside, confining her (and the other dogs) to the utility room. She chewed a hole in the linoleum. And took the moldings off the wall corners as high as she could reach. And part of the walls too! But all this chewing included swallowing. And she would get the worst tummy troubles. After a few weeks of being unable to get all this figured out (I mean, this was WAY more than just normal puppy chewing) I started looking for help. First it was a good de-worming. She had mega-monster-sized tapeworms. And lots of them. The vet and I de-wormed her three times before we finally got rid of them. We think the chewing/eating everything in sight was because she was seriously undernourished because of the worms. But by now, it was habit. A big, bad, awful habit. So I kept looking for help. 

  And help came from the Internet. I started reading about bassets, and came across The Daily Drool, Nancy's website about her basset hound, and the mail list she'd started for other basset owners to communicate and discuss their hounds. It was there that I learned that bassets aren't really dogs. Well, not dogs of the typical kind, anyway. I learned about dogs with separation anxiety problems, and about crate training, and about bloat. And so very, very much more. Like the Order of the Evil Basset Empire, which Maggie certainly qualified for: next to the shadow box on the wall is Maggie's OEBE membership certificate, with the photo of her giving me the evil eye. And she meant it too!

  So the crate helped - it saved my sanity, and possibly saved this dog's life. I work close to home, and I'd go home at lunch and let her out, but she was back in the crate every time I left. She got used to that quickly, and I had ended the housing damage. But I didn't think about the crate for trips. It was big, awkward, and inconvenient. When mom and I took a trip - a week in Idaho for my niece's high school graduation - I couldn't leave Maggie, because no-one would be able to care for her correctly. So we put a blanket over the back seat, and strapped Maggie in the car (I hooked her leash to the seatbelt so she wouldn't climb into the front wanting to be in my lap.) Maggie howled. And whined. And whimpered. And howled some more, carrying on for HOURS. Yes, eventually she settled down and fell asleep. But the next day it started all over again.on and on and on. (And for every trip after that too, although she did eventually get to the point where she only carried on for an hour or so.) But that wasn't the biggest problem that trip. She ate like a horse. Honest - she ate more by herself than my other two dogs combined. But she was so wound up on the trip, that what went in didn't come out. Plugged up. Big time. I'd walk her for 30 or 40 minutes, and nothing would come out. I'd do that four or five times a day, and for five days nothing came out! Eventually, of course, the dam would burst. But why, oh why, did it have to happen IN THE CAR??? Mom and I lost a couple hours of our trip that day bathing Maggie and cleaning the car. Ewww, yuck. That is one afternoon we will never, ever forget.

  Anyway, I could go on and on about Maggie's antics, and all the things she destroyed as a young dog. But when she was 7 or 8 years old, she finally mellowed out, and slowed down, and while she still thought she was a 75 pound lap dog, she became less food-aggressive, less anxious, less prone to causing trouble, and I was able to leave the crate door open when I left for work. So much had changed for the better. It was like I had a different dog the second half of her life. And that's the part I'll remember best. Trips were less trouble, Maggie stayed in good health, we kept her weight down (under 70, but she WAS a big girl). And until the passing of her pack-mates Beethoven and Dreamer last year, living with Maggie was sweet. But her last year wasn't as good. As an "only dog" she reverted to some bad behavior (chewing, wandering, barking), and seemed lonely and depressed. So I adopted Leia Round (and later Dexter) for her for companionship, and that was better. But her health was in rapid decline. She was 13 or 14 now, and the old body's joints were giving her trouble. And there were new lumps - not the fatty ones she'd had for a long time, but hard, heavy ones. She was old now, and the vet and I decided not to even biopsy them. We just managed her pain, and helped her be comfortable. And happy. She was still very, very happy, right up to the last. Even on the last afternoon when she couldn't stand up by herself, her eyes sparkled, her tail thumped the floor unceasingly, and she smiled at everyone and everything. 

  Maggie was a character. Maggie was a clown. Maggie would roll on her back, all four paws up in the air, and wiggle-wiggle-wiggle until she got someone to rub her tummy. Maggie would beg soulfully for anything (and everything!) edible. Her begging was an art form in itself. Maggie was, after all, just a basset, like any other. Yet to me, she was unlike any other - ever. So long, my sweet Maggie d'Earest. Thank you for sharing your life with me. You will never be forgotten. 

  Tim - and the "new" Camp White Dog Pack: Leia Round and Dexter Dogstar

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