RIP Sweet, Crazy Maizey

I don’t know what I’ll do when you leave me. 

The truth is, I don’t remember what life was like before you—and I don’t want to. 

Because before you, it was youless, and I don’t want to live in a youless world.

you’re a good girl.

A real good girl.

Sean Dietrich*

One year, three months and 4 days after she was diagnosed with cancer, we knew it was time to say goodbye to our beloved Maizey. Part Bulldog/part Labrador, part gentle soul/part insane squirrel chaser, part teacher/part obedience school drop out, Maizey was unlike any other dog I’ve every known. 

Writer and animal lover Jon Katz believes animals come into our lives when we need them. “Dogs” writes Katz, “enter our lives and imprint themselves in ways that people, and our complex relationships with them cannot."**

From the moment he jumped into the swimming pool to hold her head above water at their first meeting, as if it was her sole purpose in life, Maizey became a trusting, loyal companion to her special human, John. She loved him with her whole heart. To a lesser extent, Maizey made a lasting impression on her previous owners, our neighbors, the vets that treated her, the squirrels she chased, her canine companion(s), and rest of the humans with whom she shared a home.

Young and strong, and otherwise healthy, Maizey fought off cancer for longer than anyone expected.  Although the disease eventually took its toll, Maizey was a warrior up to her last breath. In her final days, she still mustered enough strength to hop outside on three legs to the pool where she’d take her place on the second step. Because the buoyancy relieved pressure on her lame leg, Maizey basked in the cold water the way Labradors are meant to do. In her happy place, with sirloin steak sizzling on the nearby grill,  Maizey enjoyed all her favorite things - a well-chewed but still squeaky ball, the smell of jasmine, the hunt for froggies, a duel with the garden hose, a light summer rain. Mostly she enjoyed barking. She barked "hello, where have you been?" and she barked, "when is that steak going to be cooked?" She barked encouragement to Buddy. She barked to protect John from the pool brush.  Oh how that dog loved to bark.

Passing of the baton

We all knew yesterday would be her last day. We tried but failed not to be sad, except in her presence. With practiced precision, Dr. Katie injected Maizey's hind leg, while John held her head and whispered goodbye. Lying on the couch with her, Buddy, chewed on the bone he'd taken from her  in their ritualistic game of who's boss,*** until Maizey’s final breath. Then, with an incomprehensible knowing, he rested his head on his mentor's back. It might be anthropomorphizing to say he bid his friend farewell. But, in that moment, he knew what we all knew, our home and our hearts would never be the same.

John buried Maizey in her favorite spot. The one she picked herself on a hot Florida afternoon. She lies in the cool dirt under the shade of a Ligustrum where red birds nest and she once watched squirrels skitter across the fence. I sat with her last night before I went to bed. My head in my hands, I cried the way only one who has loved and lost can cry. 

Grief is the price we pay for love. 

Queen Elizabeth II

I’ve been to funerals in big cathedrals where soloists sang Ave Maria. I’ve heard bagpipes wheeze out Amazing Grace in a military cortege. I’ve been to Southern funerals where the congregation rocked out How Great Thou Art. Mother Nature knew the perfect music to accompany my grief. Like the outdoor concert Maizey listened to during her nightly swims, a choir of tree frogs sang a mournful lament. 

I couldn’t help but smile, when over froggie clamor, I’m pretty sure I heard Maizey barking from somewhere above the clouds. 

*Sean of the South, 2/20/18, My Dog

**Going Home Finding Peace When Pets Die, Jon Katz, Random House, NY, pg. xiv

*** Who's Boss was a game Maizey won up until a month ago. Yesterday, when Buddy took the bone, Maizey went over to him on wobbly legs and licked him. The passing of a symbolic baton, I think.

It Takes A Village

"Taking responsibility and having faith in your own judgment 

will help you make good choices and decisions at the end of your pet's life."

 Jon Katz

It may take a village to raise a child. Whether with a human or a pet, as a caregiver you need a small army of doctors, friends and helpers for a sustained quality of life and/or a peaceful farewell.

Once the biopsy declared for sure that Maizey had cancer, John, who can be the most social guy I know or the most isolated, went into research mode. He googled. He read. He consulted with veterinarians. He explored alternative and herbal remedies. He compared stories with other dog owners. 

John knows many of the dogs and their humans in the neighborhood by name.  A few neighbors have experienced the full-on Maizey which happens when she tears through an open front door, charges to the back of the house then races out again like a dust devil on an open plain. Thankfully it all happens so fast that it’s hard to figure out what just happened. We have a few neighbors who know to keep their doors locked for reasons such as this, and a couple who often retell the story of the time a white lightening bold zoomed through their living room. Needless to say, Maizey has garnered quite a reputation.

During their nightly walks, while Maizey tugs on the leash for a butt sniff, John greets other dog walkers with the universal sign of hello to dog lovers — a wave of a poop-filled baggie. Unlike Buster who knows to sit and stay when another dog or car passes by, Maizey turns up the volume. On most occasions she is all bark and no bite, full of bluster and hot air. Still not many dogs or their humans want to mess with her.  Most give Maizey a wide berth. Even when Maizey is watching from inside the house neighbors speed walk past. Nothing makes Maizey crazier than seeing her human through the plate glass window, chatting away with other members of the Clifton Dog Brigade. Call it what you will, paranoid or egomaniacal, Maizey believes she is the subject of every conversation and wants to tell her side of the story.

“Busy town dogs bark less than country dogs, but all dogs know all about the Twilight Barking. It is their way of keeping in touch with distant friends, passing on important news, enjoying a good gossip." Dodie Smith, The Hundred and One Dalmatians

Through the human version of “twilight barking” John learned that cancer in dogs is not uncommon. Several dog owners have experienced the heart break that John is now facing. Like women discussing child birth, when your dog is sick no one is afraid to share even the ugliest of details. Each person’s treatment decision is as individual as their dogs. Some choose chemotherapy, some immediate euthansia, some a combination of all choices. None are easy. All are devastating.

Neighborhood Watch

In addition to all the valuable information John received, it must be noted that during their time together, John has learned each of Maizey’s peculiarities, penchants and peeves. What might work for some dogs (i.e.leg amputation) would probably not work for a dog with OCD who doesn’t like change. Maizey could, no doubt, learn to get around with one leg missing, but the truth is a three-legged Maizey would not be a happy Maizey. As he drew near to his final decision, John also reached out to two online organizations. Live Like Roo and Lap of Love Veterinary Hospice. These love-filled organizations are all about supporting, honoring and loving a dog/pet with cancer.

Stay tuned for more information on each of these organizations.