Our hearts are heavy tonight with the passing of Maggie (Magnolia Moose Pickle, AKA Magpie, Magda, Large Marge, Farticus, Stinky and Brutus Beefcake). Charra and Ekko are subdued, not quite knowing what to do with themselves. And neither do we. I write this post not to dwell on sad things or to make you, the reader, a part of our drama…but because there’s a larger message here that I think should be shared. And if you read my post about saying goodbye to our old friend and felt what we feel, or have ever lost a beloved pet, may this also bring you closure. And peace.

Maggie had a great last day.

It began much the same as any other day. Through this whole process, we have worked to keep her routine as normal as possible. Routine and consistency mean comfort and security for a dog. And so, our days passed quickly, one after the other, blending all together.

We had planned to take a short weekend getaway at Christmas, but opted to stay home and not subject Maggie to any change of scene or anything that she might find stressful. The last few weeks have been all about keeping everything calm, peaceful and comfortable.

She got me up by 6:30 this morning, much as any morning, whether I wanted to or not. 😉 After breakfast came a nice nap. It’s usually during this nap time that I go work out; today, however, I stayed home, not willing to miss a minute.

A little later in the morning, as I typically started my work day, it was time for her to ‘supervise’ from the dog bed behind the desk. Once she retired herself from going to work with Jimmy every day, she became more attached to me. She needed to be close to me, and would become anxious if I were out of her sight for long.

Most of her favorite people (whom she remembered) were with her today.

Dad came home once to spend some time with her, but he had competition: the housekeepers were here! Maggie adored Traci and Tiffani. They were always here on Thursdays.

It was ‘Donut Day!’

The donuts started as a bribe so she would let them in the house. Of course, they became fast friends. Especially when they brought donuts.

She barked for donuts.

And she got the donuts.

She had a last walk with Traci, cruising around the yard. This was also a regular routine. As they walked, Maggie would check periodically to see if Traci was still walking with her.

The day passed quickly.

I have learned that it is a tremendous blessing, almost an honor, really, to be at someone’s side when they pass from this life into the next. Sometimes I think death can be scary, because it’s something we don’t really know about until we’re there. (And it’s not like you can tell anybody about it once you’ve been there.)

But to be at someone’s side when they pass is an incredibly peaceful, special time. It’s almost as if the world stops, and becomes hushed for a minute, and the arms of heaven reach out to bring you comfort as they escort your loved one away. There’s no pain, no anxiety, no hurt.

I’ve also learned there are fates worse than death. To bring eternal peace and life to a suffering soul is a beautiful thing.

My mind began playing tricks on me last night; I was awake, restless, unable to sleep.

“Maybe we should just cancel this appointment. Maybe it’s too soon. Maybe we should wait.” After so much certainty, why was I suddenly uncertain, questioning our decision?

I did the only thing I knew to do at 3:00 a.m.: I prayed. I prayed for guidance, strength and peace.

And so it came.

I am a big believer in signs. I believe that if you look for them, the signs to guide you are there. You just have to learn how to read them. (Sometimes the universe has had to provide billboards in my case, but that’s another post for another day.)

We’d had signs we were doing the right thing, which comforted us about our decision. She had failed noticeably in the last week, falling multiple times a day. If we waited too much longer, we risked waiting until she broke a hip or leg. And then she would suffer.

She had been too good a friend to us and given us her best for almost 15 years. She deserved better from us. She deserved to have us protect her from suffering; she needed us to be the strength that she didn’t have.

The final sign was there this morning; she had an accident in the house and didn’t realize it until later. As she sniffed the paper towels in the trash, she looked at me, bewildered, as if to say, “Where did this come from? Was this me?”

It was time.

Jimmy came home in the early afternoon, and we all spent a quiet hour together in the den, in her usual spot. I was at the desk, and Jimmy sat on the floor with her. Her people were with her. She was content. Life was good.

This is the last picture I took of her today, in that spot in the den.

About 5 minutes later, the vet arrived. While they got set up, I got her a “cookie” and she and Jimmy and I all went to a nice sunny dog bed in the living room. She ate the cookie (a jerky treat actually), and laid down on the bed between both of us. Soon, with the help of a sedative, she was in dreamland chasing groundhogs.

After everyone had left, it was quiet. Too quiet.

Jimmy asked me, “Well, what are we going to do now?”

“We’ll put one foot in front of the other,” I said. And so we will.