Justin and I got Maggie when she was about six months old. We had been married about a year and a half. A coworker of his spread the word at work that she needed to find a new home for the dog she adopted, in part because one of her recent antics involved climbing on top of the kitchen counter and eating a homemade cake. We should have known.
We bargained with our apartment owner to let us keep her, since to our surprise she was already over the pet weight limit. She agreed. Although she was pretty much a fool from the start, she really loved us. And then came to love our children. And lick them. A lot.
We noticed about four weeks ago that she was getting finicky about eating. We changed her food, it improved a little, and then got worse again. Just about a week ago I noticed she was panting more, and seemed to be losing weight more quickly. On Monday an x-ray showed she had a huge mass all around her stomach, even pushing up on her lungs. Yesterday she could hardly even walk. I am thankful that it happened fast instead of being slow and drawn out, but we are so sad to see her go. Justin took her to the vet yesterday afternoon, or as the girls know, "Maggie got really sick and died."
Above are a few pictures I snapped with my phone in the last few days as we were squeezing in some last love on her. The far right is where Grayson drew her, "with a golden crown, a golden necklace, special pink leg bands, special rainbow shoes over her claws, and a special rainbow coat." She must have felt like black was a little too plain.
The pictures below are of Maggie in her glory days...when we first got her at our old apartment, licking a smoothie cup (that and yogurt or ice cream cups were her favorites), and being at the lake, one of her very favorite places. Even if she did jump into the water on top of any other dog there out of sheer excitement.
As Justin said on Instagram, we all loved that "smelly, barking, fool of a dog".
We miss you already, sweet Maggie.
by millie smith