Ode to Dog

Max, my shorkey (spell) dog performed his last Houdini trick before losing a battle with a moving vehicle. His story, for us anyway, began as a rescue dog at the local Humane Society. He was scruffy, smelly, generally in disrepair but his fighting spirit seemed to say "Pick Me!" So we did. Now, before you start thinking I am a crazy dog lady or a cold hearted Alpha female owner who doesn't care, know that I am somewhere in between. Before Max I would say nay to dog ownership and never really could relate to others when they would mourn over the passing of animals in a way that was akin to losing a grandfather. Never really got that. But I digress. Max - a shiatsu and a Yorkie mix- came to our home bedraggled and scruffy but cleaned up well. He was sweet, loved to cuddle, gave the children a sense of security. He loved cheese and would dance for it and was somewhat smitten with our new little chicks. He wasn't allowed on the carpet and would sit at the edge of the kitchens wooden floor watching us eat, staring up at us with those puppy dog eyes.The one problem was that he was a bolter...would race out of a partially open door and if you chased him, well it simply motivated him to run quicker and faster. He may even throw a taunting smile at you as he ran. 98 percent of the time he would stay or we would have him leashed but sometimes, with six people and all who visit, the slightly open door just happen to call him. Call of the Wild. He would go. One time after months of chasing I thought I can't do this. So I didn't even look for him. About 5 hours later, wee into the night, I hear this sound on our back door. "Honey,, I say, someone is trying to break in!" Honey rolls over with some indiscernible mutter. I creep down and realize it is Max, virtually freezing, begging to come in. He stayed close to home for months. But he decided to leave our hood and go over the local Chic-Fillet and order a little take-out. I just don't think he expected to be taken-out. Some kind woman called us and Big Daddy went and got his sweet little limp body. He really did look like a stuff animal. We did the painting of a rock to place on top of his burial site in the flower garden and offered up to the heavens a pray of gratitude for the love and sense of security he brought to us. The sadness in the  home is palpable. I mourn a deeper loss then I expected. It is like many things, you don't really realize what you have lost until you lose it. The whole family is processing the removal of the routine and life force of Max. Though we all do it differently we all feel that losing Max is a journey we as a family get to do together. Dang it. Go and Do.