Maggie moved into my house about four years ago, when my parents downsized. This photo was taken the first week she lived with me. She was nine in this picture, approaching ten years old, and she couldn’t understand why she no longer had acres of vineyards to roam. And, she was stubborn about it. Plopping on the outdoor furniture was her favorite way of irritating me. Thus, the photo of her in a patio chair with an indignant look on her face.
Her face has a lot more gray hair now. And, she’s slowed down considerably in the last few weeks. She lost almost half her weight in the last two months, and she became increasingly disoriented. The lethargy of old age took over and she no longer enjoyed things like walks or chasing squirrels. Her quality of life dropped dramatically in the last few months, and she couldn’t even muster the energy to jump on the patio furniture. I confess that I was hoping she would defy the house rules one more time, just to show me that she could.
I’m sure there’s a metaphor in there somewhere about taking care of aging parents, save the part about chasing squirrels. But last week, I spoke with my father about Maggie’s condition and he agreed that it’s time to say goodbye. So, Dad and I took her to her last veterinary appointment today. I didn’t think it would be so hard saying goodbye, but that little dog made cry. Maybe she taught me to have patience. Maybe she taught me that even unruly creatures still need love. Maybe she taught me that being ungovernable is a really fun way to get through life. Maybe that’s the metaphor. RIP Maggie.
