Mad Max R.I.P.

Mad Max is gone to Live Under the Big Bed. Friday November 21, we woke to a house without Max. Could not find the little guy, who loved to live under the bed(s). An all out search ensued, and Max could not be found anywhere in the house. We looked in the back yard, thinking that somehow the poor little guy was forgotten outside overnight. We could find him nowhere, but the sky was still dark as the day was young.
We looked down the street, we searched the house again, the garage, the closets, under all the beds.
I went back out into the backyard for another search, as the light was improving. I looked into the pool. All I saw was leaves and debris, and a curious shape just before the pool drops off into the deep end. All nerves, I went to get the net. I nudged the leaves, hoping they would all disperse, but no.
Poor Max had fallen in the pool at some point, and his cold little body was lying at the bottom of the pool.
I pushed his body toward the shallow end with the pole, and went inside to let my wife and daughter know. At that point, all hell broke loose as our grief and shock realized that Max was not under the bed, but was truly gone.

He was not a young dog. He was very old, and in very bad health. But he was always the old soldier, bravely going up and down the stairs ( well, we carried him down most of the time), and for over a year had been disoriented with a brain tumour.
At some point, one of us had let him out, and he had fallen in the pool. It was a horrible accident, but unless you had been there at the exact moment, the result would have been the same. I had saved him about a year earlier in the black of night when he fell in. But this time, this time, there was no one to help. It is hard to know if he stumbled in, or if one of the other pups gave him a nudge in good fun that proved fatal. There is nothing to be gained from any more understanding or information. He lived a long life, was truly loved, and when the time came, this was how his life ended.
I will always miss my Max. The crazy little schnauzer with the big heart.

Another Breed

Two years ago my father died, and two months later my father-in-law died. It was like losing two Dads.

I had grown very close to my father-in-law, having lived in the same house with him for about 9 months as cancer slowly took his life.

A few years before that, he and his wife took in Max, who is pictured here. Max had come from an abusive relationship. He was almost autistic; very stiff in his musculature, he did not like to be touched, and did not respond to the usual games. He liked to bite strangers, including two Jehovah's Witnesses, a paperboy, and my brother-in-law. He would jump up as he barked, and bounding across the lawn, he looked a miniature guard dog as he tore to the perimeter, ensuring that noone came into the yard. We had to hold him back when we brought friends to the house.

Slowly, over the last three years, and especially since the loss of his master, Max has become more lovable, more socialized, and a beloved part of our family.

In the past three years, he has endured about 7 operations. Three years ago, a tumor was removed from his hind leg. Six months ago, we removed it again. Yesterday, we had to remove it for the third time.

This was a decision not taken lightly, as the cancer has burrowed into the surrounding tissue, very close to the femoral artery. The vet was worried about potential blood loss, as he was operating. We did not know this prior to the operation, only that the anaethesia could prove difficult for his lungs. Unfortunately, the tumour had grown to such proportions that we were also worried it would rupture.
Max is about 14 years old, we think. We don't really know. In many ways, he would suggest a younger dog, but the math seems most probable that he is about that age. He also has cancer in brain, causing him to circle sometimes, or lose his balance and fall over. He "shakes" it off, and carries on. Our vet is amazed at Max's ability to withstand pain. What would put any of us over, is not ever acknowledged. He is like an old soldier, another breed, a member of the generation that we are all losing now, like my dad and father-in-law. A tougher class.

I salute this little schnauzer for his bravery and his heroism as he battles this enemy from within. He is an inspiration to us all.

In Your Face!

Ankles rankle and stockings dangle

Don't tempt me with treats

I'll rip off your face, Mister

Short guy complex? Its rather simple,

I'm in your face or

on your ankles.

Simple leverage.

Down to my level.

Lap dog? Get a grip.

Maisy's Faves and Raves

Likes: Bones bigger than my head;

canoodling with the Golden Doodle next door; unconventional sex with a standard poodle; end tables, carpets, underwear; eating out of Toodles bowl; harassing Max under the bed.

Dislikes: concrete cinder blocks that now block me from my Doodle paramour; other dogs who steal my bones; bitter apple spray.

Favourite saying: I don't have a short dog complex; you just don't understand, do you? Listen, I'll take you on...anyone of youse. I'm Maisy McQueen of Scott's. How dare you?

The One Eyed Dog

She's a bird dog. A poodle. Standard, but not ordinary. Superhuman, except she is a canine. On a scale of ten. Search and Destroy. Don't be fooled by her docile nature. She is a monster.

People who start to resemble their pets

We knew it would happen.

One day we would start to resemble our pets. The changes started slowly. Our feet pads started to darken, and the toenails became more narrow, almost clawlike. The dewclaw on our heel was somewhat shocking at first. It really made a mess of my Ralph Lauren socks.
Later the body hair became more prevalent, and the tail- well it was cute at first, and don't let them tell you it doesn't have its benefits, but a desk job is hell for someone with a tail.
At least our noses are wet, and they continue to feed us regularly. I can get used to this lifestyle. Bones R Us. Running in the yard. Humping the occasional leg. You get the picture. Down. Down.... What are they talking about? So I get a little excited at times.
Ok I admit it. I did chew my brother in laws watch strap, but you know, time really flies when you're living a dog's life. I will pause now for reflections. I said reflections, not genuflections. Leg lifting is not reflections. OK I'll go lie in the corner. Gee, some people.

Pinky and the Brain

" What are we going to do today Brain?

Same thing we do everyday Pinky. Try to take over the world. "

Left to their own devices....more carnage, mayhem, chewed heart monitors, underwear, gloves (where do they find these things???).

It appears they work together. The little girl is the Brains of the outfit, the brass for sure. When they have their morning mayhem (post breakfast) its one big black blur. A ball of confusion and terror, and terrier, and oodles of poodle. The carpet liberally sprinkled with bones, the bodies are buried in the backyard.

Cupboards, doors- that's childs play. Minor obstacles on the course to many courses. She dances on her hind legs while the muscle paws her way to puppy paradise.

What should we do tonight Brain?

Same thing we do everynight Pinky. Try to take over the world.

Room by room.