Max's Wishes

I, Max, carrying the burden of secret years of life, aware of infirmities heavy on me and realizing the end of my life is near, do hereby bury my Last Will and Testament. My family will not learn of it until after I am gone; remembering me in their loneliness, they will suddenly become aware of this Testament, and I ask them to inscribe it as a memorial to me.

I have nothing in the way of material things to leave; dogs seem wiser than men – we aren’t in the habit of putting great stock in stuff. Dogs don’t waste our days hoarding property (except Teddy Grahams), nor do we ruin our sleep worrying about how to keep the objects we have or how to obtain the objects we have not. The only possession of real value I have to bequeath is my love and faith; these I leave to everyone who came to love me these past five years – to my family, and Mom and Dad, in particular, who will surely mourn me most.

Perhaps it might be vain for me to boast – especially given I am so near death, which returns all beasts and vanities to dust – but, I always had it within me to be an extremely lovable dog.

I do ask my family to always remember me but also not to grieve for me too long. These past five years, I worked to be a comfort to them in times of sorrow as well as a source of added joy in their happiness. It hurts me to think that I should cause them pain, even in death; they need to remember that, owing only to their love and care, I had finally been allowed to live the fullest of lives.

I realize it will not be considered as “fair” my decision to offer only silent goodbyes before I become too much a burden on myself and to those who love me. They need to know it will be my great sorrow to leave them, but will also not be my sorrow to die. I do not fear death as do men; dogs accept death as a part of life, not as something alien and terrible.

What will come after my death, I do not know. I would like to imagine there is truly a paradise where I will always be young; where each hour will be mealtime; where my “Dad” will share long walks along beautiful winding roads, a million fireflies illuminating our way; where I curl up alongside “Mom” on a couch absorbing each other’s warmth, nodding off and dreaming, remembering the best of days on Earth as well as the love of a Family finally realized.

It is my firm belief that peace will be a certainty; peace and long rest will finally come to my weary heart, head and limbs, as well as the promise of an eternal sleep in the earth I loved so well. Perhaps, after all, this is best.

My last request will be to ask Mom and Dad, out of love for me, to adopt another dog; it would be a poor tribute to my memory never to again love another dog. While it might seem I have a jealous spirit, I have always believed most dogs are essentially good. (Clearly, some dogs are better than others – Shelties, in particular.) So, I suggest a Sheltie as my successor. While it is hardly possible she will be as well bred, as distinguished, or as handsome as I was in my youth, I ask Mom and Dad not to “expect the impossible.”

She will do her best, I am sure; her inevitable and manifest deficiencies will only help, by comparison, to keep my memory alive.

To my replacement, I bequeath my collar and leash; while she will never wear them with distinction as did I – all eyes fixed on me in admiration – I wish her all happiness and joy as she comes to live in that wonderful place called, “home.”

One last word of farewell to my family – especially, Mom and Dad: when visiting my grave, while you may justifiably entertain a momentary reflection of regret, I mainly want you to cherish the certain memory of the great happiness you brought to the final five years of my life.

"Here lies one who loved us and whom we loved".

Think or speak those words.

No matter how deep my sleep, I will hear you.

For, not even the finality of death will keep my spirit from wagging a grateful tail and barking with joy for all the angels and neighbors to hear.

Max - April 12, 2010

You were never masters, but friends. I was your friend.
I loved you well, and was loved. Deep love endures
To the end and far past the end. If this is my end,
I am not lonely. I am not afraid. I am still yours.

Robinson Jeffers, 1941

Max

I never considered a Sheltie for a pet; we had always had Golden Retrievers, Beagles, German Shepherds, and any number of mutts.

Only once did I amend my own rigid "dog" list after coming to know and love the most fierce, blind Yorkie a person could ever meet.

But a Sheltie? Wasn't on my radar.

Well, my Mother and Stepfather really didn't much care what any of us thought back in the early days of 2005 when they adopted a Sheltie named, Max.

He had a troubled history with owners; Max was fine -- his owners were NOT. At the hands of these people he had apparently suffered from emotional abuse; he had been isolated for long periods of time -- as a result he was not well socialized.

Our parents fell for him at first glance; he apparently cleaned up well.

They took him home for a trial period. I believe the first thing he did on entering the house was "pee" on some furniture. After that, I am told all he did was stare at the front door apparently waiting to "go home." It is sad to think he may have preferred the life he knew with some abusive owners in his past rather than making an effort to bond with people who would give him a very good life.

I met the dog two months into their courtship; by this time Max had made serious inroads adapting to his new life. He had come to believe in and to trust the two of them -- he was, however, not going to tolerate anyone else being added to HIS mix.

When they picked me up at the airport, Mom was seated -- strategically -- in the back seat alone with Max. He was having NONE of this odd looking stranger. I have never endured such an intense silent interrogation; unflinching coal black eyes daring me to make a single move or to utter even a monosyllable.

Most dog people have rarely met a dog they don't like. Well, I had that day -- I honestly wanted no part of him, either.

The picture of the two of them on that couch seems sweet -- if not posed. But is wasn't. This is the position he assumed every time I came anywhere near my Mother. Whenever I dared to move closer, his mouth assumed a menacing snarl.

I had never met a dog like Max. But, I was also equally determined to win him over.

With time his defenses wore thin; he came to gradually accept the strange people called "family" who continued to move into and out of their life -- with no adjustment required of him other than accepting a great deal more attention -- and snacks.

He eventually became more of a people person -- er, dog.

Best is that he became Mother's second shadow; she could go nowhere without him following her every move. And as Mother became increasingly ill, he gladly took on the added role as her "nurse." He had become completely devoted to her.

I remember one night when an agency nurse was not available; another brother and I were in town so we took on the role of caring for Mom overnight while our stepfather attempted to get some much needed rest. I was asleep in the greatroom when I was awakened by the touch of something cold on my face; Max had become concerned for Mom and sought out my help -- he nudged me with his wet, cold nose so as to get me to my feet. Mom had truly needed assistance.

So it is that I came to love Max. He, too, has learned that the boundaries of love are not limited to the three of them -- we all share in a love for him which makes his life even better.

Max and the rest of us have gone through alot together; we are all intent on making Mom's life tolerable as her illness progresses. And now I actually savor every opportunity to look into his warm dark eyes and revel in his happy bucktoothed smile.