Max was never truly healthy, as far as I know. Most purebred dogs have issues of some sort or another, and Max was no different. At eight years old, for a Cocker Spaniel, he should have had a few years left, but when I met Max a little over three years ago, he already seemed old.
His first owner was a man who had retired early from the Air Force, had a few health problems himself, and decided to become a lawyer. He studied for hours at his home and bought Max to keep as company. But this man was not a dog person, and other than letting Max out to go to the bathroom and feeding him, Max lived a solitary life with someone.
After his first owner died, Max lived for four years with a woman who liked dogs, loved Max, and she had friends who would come over, not something Max was used to, but he liked the attention. Max also discovered the wonderous creation we call “racquet balls”. Max became quite adept at catching a ball in midair, after the first bounce, and we once had a contest to see how many in a row Max could catch. His record stood at forty-seven. One of the oddest things, was Max taught himself to throw the ball down the back steps, and he would chase after it before it got to the bottom. Max did this for hours at a time.
Max was slowing down, getting blind, going deaf, and he was having a harder and harder time getting up on the bed, and sometimes, he seemed lost, even in his own home. He began crying and howling loudly when his owner left the house, and she had no idea why he was behaving this way, with no good reason at all.
Life wasn’t done with the little black and white dog, and his second owner died just four years after his first went. Max went to live with his former owner’s brother, who was not is great health himself. I helped out by taking Max to the groomer, and that sort of thing, but Max was adrift. Even living with someone he knew and loved, Max had been torpedoed twice in his life, and his heart was broken.
Max’s health went downhill, and when he developed cancer, the operation itself might have been enough to kill him. We buried Max in the backyard, near the shop at his new owner’s house, and the story for Max ends there.
This is a scene played out every day in every state. People die and their pets enter a world of pain and confusion, with no control over what happens to them. In Dog Rescue, we get elderly dogs taken from the homes of dead or dying people who loved these animals for years, but made no plans as to what might happen when the owner died.
Max landed well twice, but I think the loss killed him. I think even though he was loved and taken care of, there was a hole in his life that could not be filled with treats or ball tossing. Dogs love harder than any other creatures I have met and losing someone takes a lot out of a dog. Plan for your dog’s next journey in life. Put it in your will. Make the effort to see your dog is taken care of in this world, if you move on to the next.
Mike writes regularly at his site: The Hickory Head Hermit.
Opinions expressed in this article are not necessarily those of the management of this site.