A Photo Ode to Our Good Dog, Now Gone

A young Macey, in repose

Earlier this week, right after returning from our trip, I mentioned that our good old dog, Macey, had become ill while she was staying with D's parents in Chico this summer, where we left her while we were travelling so much. She had stopped eating, which is very unusual for her, and after a few days of that D's dad Joe took her to the vet. After several visits and lots of tests, all the vet could conclude was that she had experienced internal bleeding, but they did not know why, but she seemed to be recovering. The vet first suspected cancer of the spleen, which I guess is not uncommon in dogs her age (she was about 12 years old), but the ultrasound they performed did not show any tumors. Since she seemed to be improving, and since we did not have any other good options, D's parents left her and their old yellow lab, Jasper, at their house in the care of a neighbor while they (and we) were in Colorado for the wedding of D's sister. They came back two weeks later to find that she had not continued to improve, and called us on our cell while we were camping our way back to Chico to warn us that she was not doing well.

Sure enough, when we first saw her when we arrived back in Chico, I realized our dog was dying. She was completely skin and bones. Her nose was not just dry, but dry crusted. She could barely stand, and she held her head low when she did. When she was lying down, she held her head a little up instead of resting it on her paws, as if she was having trouble breathing. And her breathing was very labored and oddly rhythmed at times--sometimes she seemed to be fighting just to breathe and other times she could lay at rest. Frankly, it was her breathing that chilled me the most--it reminded me of when my grandmother died and how hard she was breathing for days, and I saw what hard work dying is.

Still, she had some spirit, and I was appalled when Joe said it was time for the nightly walk--it seemed so cruel to make her walk when she could barely keep up with my very slow pace, and had to stop at times as if she could not go on, and yet she seemed to enjoy it, and showed some interest in animal smells once we got to Bidwell park a block away (where they filmed the old black and white Robin Hood movie, if that gives any of you a mental image--not a tame park), Still, this was my "tough puppy," the dog whom I could previously only walk with a choke collar on because otherwise she would practically yank your arms out of their sockets with her pulling (where the Husky in her lineage comes through most)--and that was in her later years. For much of her life I used a prong collar--the kind with metal spokes pointing into their throat, which sounds so cruel but with all that thick fur around her neck she would pull against THAT too! I had never seen her so weak and unenergetic.

We were so glad to bring her home with us, and temped her appetite with real meat and gave her lots of love, and brought her dishes to her head so she did not have to work at all to eat or drink. And she seemed to be improving! She even seemed to be gaining weight, visibly. She was perking up, and barked a couple of times at people or cars approaching the house, something she had not done at all in Chico. She seemed to have more energy and was moving around to follow the sun (she has always loved baking in the sun), even climbing up the flight of stairs to the back deck. She was still breathing poorly at times, and was still clearly in a bad way, but we were starting to think it was only a matter of time before she was close to her old self again.

And then Fri morning D told me he got up for work, let her out onto the back deck like usual, she walked to the middle of the deck, and then sat down. And then slowly crumpled forward. A few minutes later she was gone.

We are not heartbroken, because we are the pragmatic type who treat pets like animals and not people. But we are still sad, and miss her. I keep coming around the corner and expecting to see her lying in her usual spots. D remarked as he backed into the driveway after church today that he had caught himself looking to make sure she was out of the way. And I will have to get used to not having her as our first response security system--she was admittedly quite intimidating to look at, and made a great watchdog! (I'll never forget having her out on a walk in our, shall we say, colorful neighborhood down in Seaside, and a large, scary gangster-looking man calls out to me as we walk by and asks, "Does he bite?" To which I replied, with a straight face, "Only if I tell her to.")

She was a less than perfect dog--she always wanted to be the Alpha, yet still had lots of dog friends back when we lived in CO, but ended up in her old age here in CA picking fights with any old animal that came her way (could also have been the Boxer side of her coming out). She never learned not to go after skunks, and one time she got one *right* in front of the air intake for our fireplace. It was winter and before we knew it, the house was filled with skunk. We could not even turn off the blower, since it is hardwired, for one thing, and also because that is the only source of heat for the house. I slept with the blankets over my nose and mouth that night (keep in mind our bed is right next to the fireplace).

Macey was not trustworthy off leash, so had to always be on a steel cable--even in a fenced-in yard, as she could easily jump a 6 foot fence, and once tried to take on a 7 foot. She would have made it, too, if I had not been fast enough to grab her by the tail and yank her back down while she hung for just a moment at the top.

But with all her flaws, Macey was a very good dog to us. She loved people, and upon meeting anyone would immediately flop over on her back so they could rub her tummy. I was never worried about her with the kids, even when they were little, because she never nipped. She did once or twice knock a child over by playfully backing up and not looking behind her. And she sometimes whapped a child in the face with her wagging tail. But all in the spirit of love.

She was also very smart. Back in CO before we had kids and I had lots of time to train a dog, Macey knew and would obey over 30 commands, most of which had verbal AND hand signals, so that I could move my hand to tell her to "come" or "sit" or "go back" or "on the rug" or "no bark" and she would usually comply. I could even give her a command from inside a house, if she could see me through the windows, and she would usually obey. I even taught her "left" and "right" and the difference between "street" and "sidewalk" when we were out walking. She would "do her business" in a special area of the back yard before we went on our walks so that I did not have to carry poo bags with me, and so we did not have dog messes all over the yard. I never could teach her to "heel," although I never tried that hard--I liked seeing her walking in front of me, her tail curled up high over her back (more of the Husky traits), her ears perked, her strong legs rhythmically padding. And she always would pull, although she was considerate when we were going down a steep slope and would go slowly for me then.

I realize now that I could write about her for a long time, and could tell so many fun stories. But you have humored me long enough, so I will end with my Photo Ode, to Macey:

She was a great one to cuddle.

2000, Our first Christmas with firstborn G



Hanging out in the sunshine with G


G used to crawl all over her, literally

Hanging out with baby M


4 wheeling in CO


With the third pup, B, and Macey's boyfriend, Jasper (up in Chico)


B gets a kiss--another thing Macey could do on command ; )

An unfortunate incident with our freshly painted carport

Even late in life Macey never lost her willingness to be a cozy pillow for little girls