Goodbye Maxy Shoop

We had to put Max to sleep yesterday and though I’m happy she is no longer in pain, the utter silence left in her absence is mind-jarring.

From the time we’d drive into the drive-way she’d be barking like a lunatic, only to crescendo into full-fledged coronary status once we made it up the basement stairs.

Of course she defended the house from the mail-man, fed-ex guy, and garbage men on a daily basis.  Threatening children and old ladies also got the treatment when brave enough to darken our door. But she was really a big baby overall.

My day always revolved around her in some way–even before we had kids, I lived five minutes for work at the University of Pittsburgh so it was me who scheduled her walks into the day.

Then ten years, two kids, new house, part-time work from home status, and Maxy’s cancer diagnosis later, my day was punctuated by taking Max to the bathroom every two to three hours.

Yesterday was shocking in how many times my mind went to Max and what I needed to do to take care of her (If I leave now, I have to back at ____ time to let her out, etc.)–how much I thought of her on an hour by hour basis repeatedly startled me as though I hadn’t been aware of how much I had worked around her.

She was the sweetest dog ever.  I know everyone thinks they have the best dog, but Max was, sweet in every way and we miss her.

I’m glad we had the chance to say goodbye to her. We took lots of pictures with the kids and they got to decide what Maxy needed to take with her to Heaven–the bear my sister gave her when she was six weeks old.

And, when she finally died, with the bear under her chin, laying on a comfortable blanket she looked just as she always did when sleeping in that curled up way. 

Peaceful and happy.


10 thoughts on “Goodbye Maxy Shoop

  1. I’m sorry to hear about this too, Kathie.

    There is something really poignant about losing a pet that you’ve had since even before your children were born. Your dog or cat connects you to a former self and lifestyle, and its death seems to spell at end to an era. I can still cry just by remembering the dogs and cats I lost decades ago.

    It is good that you were there to see Max out and make sure that his death was peaceful and comfortable.

  2. Kathie, I’m sorry to hear about Max. What a sweet post – it’s obvious he brought you and your family a lot of joy (even if not the mail man, fed-ex man, etc…) That was a nice way to include your kids in his final days.

  3. Kathie, I’m so sorry. And I know exactly what you mean when you write of not realizing how much of your daily life was centered around caring for her. When we put our dog Sherman down (a year and a half ago) it was after a long, slow deterioration. He was never in pain so we felt we should grant him all the time he could enjoy before his ratio of frustration to joy became too great. It was only after he was gone that I truly realized how much energy I had expended caring for him. I was surprised to feel an odd relief. If you should feel this relief, don’t feel guilty. Think of the relief Max feels.

  4. Hey All, thank you all for such kind thoughts. I don’t feel relief yet, Julie. I thought I would because there were times I was irritated with the level of care I was giving and I thought things would be easier once she passed. I only thought this from time to time, but I am suprised I don’t feel that relief yet. I do know she’s happy now, she has to be! I’ll post more, but thank you all for the great thoughts, each of you is much appreciated for adding them here.

  5. We just had to put our dog to sleep last week. He was a sweet greyhound who was great with our toddler. It’s amazing how pets become such an important part of the family.

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