Goodbye My Friend
I have wanted to write a sort of epitaph for Max after he passed. It was easier to post videos and photos of our time together. They say a picture is worth a thousand words…and the words I wanted to say were hard to pull from me. For the story of Max begins with me…however, I won’t start from the beginning.
Almost six months have now passed, and that day will coincide with my 58th birthday. Today, in a little while from now, if I'm not feeling any less sour, I promised myself…to write this…in an effort to, make it clear to whoever wants to know what it's like when you're shattered…Naturally.
I’ll pick it up in my late 30’s to early 40’s. Several large-scale events took place.
1) My parents passed away within three months of each other. As if that was not hard enough, there were no wills. Without going into details, I found myself in a fight for my parents’ house, a place I had called home since I was 8 years old.
2) After over 2 decades of being single, I got married…which my parents did not live to see (they probably would have died of shock hearing that news anyway).
3) I sold my co-op apartment where I had lived for 10 years. My wife to be and I bought a house, obviously a big financial step and responsibility. Perhaps more house than we needed, but we fell in love with the property.
4) After buying the house and getting married, I was being forced out of my job of 14 years. Christina had moved to Long Island based on my job location, one I thought I would always be at. This created an uncertain future for a new future that had hardly begun.
5) Since Christina moved to Long Island, she needed to find a new job. What seemed easy at first, became very stressful. Lucking she was able to find a job, albeit not one she had hoped for. I, on the other hand, now had to find a job for the first time in 14 years. A lot of late nights searching online for jobs, while still trying to hang onto the one I had.
6) The job I found was in the city. The commute sucked and I was away from home a lot during the day. The VP who hired me left the company, and everything she planned for me left with her. Christina was not happy with her job also, but she kept it to herself.
7) Our combined income was now less with our new jobs, so while money isn’t everything…who am I kidding…it is. A tight budget didn’t help things.
Those first two years were the toughest. The future did not seem so bright.
But in 2007, fate must have woke her, 'Cause lady luck she was waiting outside the door. Christina’s position was not renewed, and her job search began again. She interviewed with the Director of Guidance at Lindenhurst. They immediately hit it off. She served as a mentor to Christina. After the Director retired, I told her that her faith in Christina changed everything in our life. From the house to our happiness…and to that fateful day in March of 2008 when Christina walked into the attendance office at the high school. She could have walked right passed that bulletin board, but something caught her eye. He would eventually capture our hearts. After two tough years, our lives would be lit up for the next 15. It was the right place, the right time. Fate. It was somethting we didn't know we were missing.
I have written about adopting Max, so I am not going to repeat it here. Previous Blog
As Max grew older, much older than I could have ever imagined…his younger days of being a “rambunctious” dog seemed to dissipate in my memory. Most of his younger days were captured by camera, not an iPhone which now is always readily available. I nicknamed him Crazy Dog…more of a description than a moniker. But we soon learned he was crazy like a fox...and knew how to push our buttons. When Max would do something he wasn’t supposed to do, he fully well knew it…and looked back at us like, what are you going to do about it? Yeah, he was actually tough to catch back then…I forget that now too. Because of these actions, we’d say he was a little stinker…and it was eventually shortened to just Stinky. That name would stick with him to the end.
In October of 2009, I took Christina to be a Trainer for a Day at the National Aviary in Pittsburgh (like to take a guess why we were in Pittsburgh?) At the end of the day, we spoke with one of the trainers. We mentioned our Stinky dog. He showed me a training tip, one that Max and I would eventually perfect and show off everywhere we went. I kidded it was Max’s safe word. He would come to me no matter what once I gave that command. It came in handy to retrieve him when he was being, well, a stinker. Max turned out to be very trainable. He loved showing off. He loved people’s reactions when he showed off. And yes, he loved the treats after he did so. Eventually you could speak in whole sentences, and he seemed to understand it all. He was my dog. That would change. He would be so much more.
As much of a stinker Max was, there was not a mean or angry part of his soul. Max had played with a friend’s dog when that dog was a pup. Max would pin him down playing since he outweighed him by quite a bit. While Max was playing, I think that dog built up a resentment. They continued to interact and eventually that dog grew to Max’s size. One day, what seemed like playing, soon was not…well, at least for the other dog. Even playing, Max was a powerful dog so one was not dominating the other. As we realized what was happening, they needed to be separated. I had always told Christina, never yell at Max if something like this happens. Because even though he was a stinker, he would listen. Well he listened, he stopped, the other dog got the upper hand. After they separated, it was decided to have them interact again to work things out. I deferred to the other owner since I was a relatively new dog daddy. As I tried to lead Max to the other dog, he slipped out of my grip and jumped off the deck to the far side…a spot that is not meant to nor had he ever gone off from before. I went around the other side to get him, and he had this look I will never forget…and it is even harder to describe. But I recognized it. When my Mom was dating after the divorce, we would often stay at the house of one of the guys she was with. His daughter was around my age and very nice. However, the neighbor had a son who was a few years older, who was not very nice…a bully. When I told my Mom and her boyfriend about the situation, instead of listening to me they decided to get us to play together. That didn’t work out well for me. I recognized that look on Max’s face, it was once on mine. As I sat down, Max came over to me and laid his head in my lap and gave that look up at me. I told him, I understand…and I will never let you down again.
He would never again have to interact with that dog. As an aside, I found a Lab group…which Max loved being a part of…and they loved having him.
It was during that same year I was getting frustrated with my job. The banks had collapsed so I was lucky at least to have one, but I was stuck. After a long day of work, and yet another horrible commute on the LIRR, I arrived home to just Max. I let him out of his cage and sat on the floor with him. I broke down. Now normally I do not let dogs lick my face, it seemed something in their saliva would give me a rash. This time I don’t think I had a choice. Max gave me a facewash, one that I had never gotten before. Some will say he just liked the salt in the tears. However, he kept pulling back to take a look at me…seemingly to see if he was helping, then continue…then pull back again. It was the first time I allowed him to lick my face…I also did not break out. It was the day Max told me he’d take care of me too.
We would become inseparable. He was the Hobbes to my Calvin. Often times Christina would ask where we were going, I would just respond, Spelunking! There are so many stories that follow, and way too many to tell here. I think we got along so well because we were the same. I described us as “Two assholes that eventually do the right thing”.
However, one story I will tell is with his interactions with other people. He just had a way. On one of Max’s adventures, we were taking the ferry as walk on passengers to the Islanders farm team in Bridgeport, it was Pucks and Paws Day. Christina ran into a coworker on the ferry, so I let them talk as I walked Max around for the hour plus trip. As we went to exit the ferry, Christina said to let everyone go before us since we have a dog. Almost to a person, everyone who passed us said Goodbye Max, Nice to meet you Max, Have a great time at the game Max. Christina turns to me, how is it that everyone knows my dog? I said Max took it upon himself to go and introduce himself to everyone on the ferry. I am sure he made their days a little brighter like he always did ours.
As Max got older, he eventually could no longer make it up the steps to sleep with us. Some nights I would just cuddle up on the floor and hold him. When he realized I was there, he would wag his tail, turn his head, and give me a kiss. I had no idea this would go on for another 4 years. When Covid hit, everyone was told to stay home. Max couldn’t have been happier. He would follow me around the house all day from beginning to end. I would have my coffee on the deck as Max laid by my side. Sipping my coffee with one hand, petting my pal with the other. He learned how to open the French doors to my home office. He could come and go as he pleased. That time at home was a gift. I didn’t think we could grow closer, but we did.
During that time Max developed a lump that turned out to be Cancer. He had surgery at 13 ½ years old. The week before I took him to all his old stomping grounds. I made him steak and eggs. I took his paw prints. It was Max Week, but I prepared for the worse. But Max was not ready to end his story there. He still had so much life to live. Even 2 years on chemo did not slow him down…but Father Time did. I always told Max I couldn’t handle life without him, that I was going to go first. I will say, he gave me ample time for that to happen. After the Cancer surgery I tried to spend as much time with Max as I could. I would be there for him, I would not let him down…I had made that promise years ago.
From 15 to 16 Max really began to slow down. I think I still tried to fool myself it wasn’t happening. October of 2022 was his last adventure out of the house. Right after Easter in 2023 I had a Max and Me day (like most days). The Yankees played in the afternoon and the Islanders played at night (I even turned down a ticket just to be with Max). We sat together under the Pavilion to watch both games. In the afternoon Max got Cinnamon Twists from Taco Bell and that night Ginger from the sushi place. It was two of his favorite treats. He made it outside, but walking was a challenge. It had been a while since he stopped his physical therapy. Every now and then, he’d have an actual hop in his step…and it always brought a smile to both our faces. Other times he struggled, and I would tap him in the butt with my foot and say, you stop walking…you die. A little harsh, but I knew the day he stopped walking it would be the end. That day would be April 18th, 2023.
That day I had scheduled for Fios to come and do an install for all our TV’s. I came down to put Arthur in his cage. I went over to Max and I knew something was up. He had not moved from where I left him the night before. I tried to coax him to get up. He didn’t even try. My world collapsed on me. I didn’t have time to cancel the install, so I went ahead with it. When the technician was done, he commented what a good boy my dog was, he didn’t move. That is when I lost it. Tears filled my eyes as I told the tech he could no longer move on his own, and this had just happened. The tech laid down on the floor and he began to pet Max. Max picked his head up to give him a kiss, to say thank you as he always did. It reminded me of the time on one of the Vineyard Walks. The Winemaker would get ahead of the group to get to the designated resting area to pour water in the bowls for the dogs. Max always liked to lead so he was the first one there. Max drank the water as the Winemaker was still filling the oversized dish. When Max was done, he turned to the Winemaker and gave him a kiss. A bit caught off guard the Winemaker had realized what had just happened and said, You’re welcome, Max. The Fios tech went on to tell Max to relax, not to strain himself as he continued to pet him. I let him stay as long as he liked. When he was done, I thanked him for taking the time to spend with Max. He said he had recently lost his own dog.
I set Max up in the kitchen so he can look out the sliding glass doors and he could see us more easily. As the days passed Father Time pushed hard. I came out of my office one morning and Max looked up at me. His eyes sunken, his lifeforce dwindling. Yet just outside the sun was glistening, the trees where in bloom, Spring and life was in the air. I used to say when asked what I did with Max that day, I’d say…we had joy we had fun, we had seasons in the sun. Today that song had a new meaning…as the verses, not the chorus, hit home. I put on the song and sang to Max as I had done a thousand times before. This time however, I was drowning in my tears.
Goodbye My Max, my little one
You gave me love and helped me find the sun
And every time that I was down
You would always come around
And get my feet back on the ground
Goodbye My Max, it's hard to die
When all the birds are singing in the sky
Now that the spring is in the air
With the flowers everywhere
I wish that we could both be there…
When Max stopped eating the vet said he had 24-48 hours. This is the death cycle. But just like Max would always do, he stuck around longer. I carried him outside so he could have fresh air. Christina and I ate outside and spent as much time as we could with him. I like to believe he knew we were there. On the Monday before his vet appointment, it was finally warm enough to give him a bath outside. He seemed happy to get cleaned. I could not be sure until I went to dry him off. Max always loved the leaf blower. I would use it on him one last time. He did something he had not done in a few days…he wagged his tail. He was still with us.
We had always worried we would not be around for Max at the end. As hard as it was, I would have had it no other way. Tuesday morning we awoke to Max struggling to breathe. We hoped we had not waited too long to go to the vet. I was able to give him some of his pain meds, and that seemed to relax his breathing. It was almost time to go, but we did not want to leave Max alone. Christina went up to shower first. I got my iPhone and pulled up Max’s song. I used to start signing it to him while he was asleep, by the end of the song he had me pinned down and was giving me a facewash. I knew this time would be different. I sang him his song, never wishing to hide the tears. When I was finished, Christina came down and it was her watch. When I returned, she told me Max had evacuated. Even though his heart still beat, I knew he was gone. I hoped he heard his song before he left us.
I hadn’t given it much thought on how to get him into the car. Seeing his ramp gave me the solution. The ramp he had used the last year to carry him into the house would carry him one last time. I placed it upon a dolly, and we carefully laid Max down. We rolled it to the car, it was the exact height of the seat so we slid him over into the back seat. Christina would ride in the back and hold Max. It reminded me of a time I had to rush Max to the emergency room. This time though the outcome was already prewritten.
We decided to take Max to the vet for what we needed to do. Both Christina and I did not want it done in our home. Never one to be subtle I said, so I am going to pay someone to come to my house, kill my dog and take away the evidence? No thanks. Plus, the vet was not just a vet. She was a friend. Max had gotten to know the staff, and they Max. He was one of the few dogs that liked going to the vet. We also had boarded him there when he was younger. He would come bolting in like he was crashing a party, yet he was the party and the staff knew it. This time his entrance would be more subdued.
When we arrived, I went into the office to get Cisco, our favorite vet tech. He saw me and I could not even speak. He asked if we needed his help, I was barely able to nod. He carried Max in, realizing he was only moments away. He laid Max down in the office and made him comfortable…but there were no signs of acknowledgement from Max. The vet came in and commented Max looked good, because in my communications with her I felt he physically deteriorated, and we waited too long. She assured me we didn’t, and it sounded like he did not suffer. She gave Max a sedative which was a formality at this point. After only half of the next needle, the vet checked for a heartbeat. Max was gone…and so was my heart.
I now sit outside in the morning having my coffee. I find my hand reaching down for something that is no longer there. Each day is empty, yet from the outside it looks so full. Each day I remain in an emotionless fog, fearful I will drown in any other option. The tears do come every day though, in a way I have never experienced before.
Goodbye my friend.
