My precious Max, where do I begin? One minute you're here and the next, you're gone. How I miss and love you, Mr. Chop. |
My beautiful boy, you always amazed me by how photogenic you were. Every picture of you looked like it belonged on a Dalmatian calendar!
A Dalmatian rescue group saved you 20 minutes before you were scheduled to die in an awful shelter's gas chamber--a horrible way to go. I used to tell you how lucky you were that day. You came to live with our family right after dear Moey died. I knew about rescue by then and you were the second rescued dog I owned. We drove all the way to Cleveland to pick you up and when you met me, you jumped right up on me, as if you knew I was going to be your mama. I named you after my favorite artist, Maxfield Parrish, but you ended up having many nicknames.
You were a handful when you were younger! Diagnosed as obsessive/compulsive, your life's mission was to bark at the neighbors' dogs at the fence that separated our yards! I think it was great fun for you! You ran a banked path through the yard as you followed the same path over and over again. When I read up on obsessive/compulsive disorder in dogs, it said that 99 percent of the cases were a result of some sort of abuse or neglect, so I can guess how life began for you. But it wasn't all running and barking at dogs. You loved to snuggle, you went to great (and funny) lengths to make the perfect bed out of blankets for yourself. I so miss snuggling with you at night; it was our special time.
Whatever robbed you of your life--Heart attack? Blood clot?--at least was very fast. No, you did not suffer long, but it was a huge shock to me. I still cannot believe you are gone. I love you forever and ever. Please wait for me again, my sweet little Shmee, when I can snuggle with my precious boy again.