by Linda Murray
Mom never really considered the fact that he was a dog. He was just Max, and people sometimes referred to him as Max The Wonder Dog, not necessarilly in a flattering wasy, but more of less that he was so sure of his place in the world. When he first got cancer, I was so sure he would be fine. I really didn't believe the vet when she said he would probably recur. I gave him vitamins and exercise and put magnets in his mattress. Whne the cancer came back a second time, and he had a second surgery, I still thought he would be fine. More vitamins and laying on of hands to heal. Max loved to walk, and we would go all over the neighborhood. We met interesting people and Max smelled a lot of interesting things. He loved people and was effusive in expressing his like of people, regardless of how people felt about him. The more they ignored him, in fact, the harder he tried to convince them he was lovable. He poked everything with his nose--knees, pillows, doors, garbage cans. He made sweet puppy sounds and pushed against us with his head. He also demanded attention and food. He was never shy. Once in the park, Max was off leash, and barked and lunged at a biker. The biker became angry and said, "I'll kill your dog if he bites me." I have spent my life in the pursuit of non-violence, but without missing a beat, I said to the biker, "If you touch my dog, I'll kill you, you (insert profanity here). I was not ashamed of my behavior; as a matter of fact, I tried to follow the biker to shout other profanities at him. Max brought out thes best in me--my mommy instincts.