Goodbye Max

It's been over a month since our Golden Retriever Max passed away and while it gets a bit easier each day, I still think of him constantly. When I open the bathroom door after my shower, I still brace myself for trying not to step on him. He'd lie outside the bathroom door when John or I took a shower and wait patiently until we were done. I still leave the bedroom light on when I leave for work in the morning -- I never wanted him to be in the dark when he was home alone. When I go down into the basement, I see his food bowl and his toys and I picture him running to the door with the "Crazy Chicken" in his mouth. While unpacking the Christmas things yesterday, we happened upon his stocking. We won't hang it up this year, but his picture is on the mantle and he's never far from our hearts.

We got Max when he was only a few months old. After John and I had moved in together and our landlord OK'd a dog, we told the kids they could help pick the dog out. We went to a Golden Retriever breeder's and I can still picture that "scene" like it was yesterday versus almost 10 1/2 year ago. We pulled into the driveway of the house and a litter of Golden Retriever puppies went nuts, barking and climbing on the fence. G, my stepdaughter, immediately started crying and plugging her ears. (The breeder must've thought we were forcing the kids into getting a dog!) We asked J, my stepson to pick out which puppy he wanted. He chose the one eating dirt (and we never let him forget that...)

We decided to name him Max, with his AKC registered name being "M.S. Maxdaam." We had just come back from a family cruise on Holland America's M.S. Maasdam and we thought naming him that would be a good way to commemorate our trip.

A few weeks later we drove back and took him home in a laundry basket in the backseat of the car. We crate-trained him, took him to Puppy Kindergarten, cleaned up his pee all over the house, and even took the opportunity to pick him up and cuddle him like a baby (that didn't last very long.)

I remember coming home at lunch one day from work (I'd drive home to let him out). He'd been out of the crate and had literally ripped the shredding out of the loveseat in our bedroom (the VERY UGLY one you'll see below...maybe he did us a favor.) He'd also pulled a few rows out of the Berber rug in our bedroom. I stood there calling John in tears. What were we going to do??? What else could we do? We got through it.

Max loved the snow. He loved peanut butter. He loved lobster meat. He knew which Christmas stocking was his. One of us could say, "Where's Max's stocking?" and he'd sit in front of it and raise his paw.

We loved him dearly for 10 1/2 years and we're pretty sure he felt the same. He'll live forever in our hearts.

His life in pictures:

A young'un. He loved that hot dog and had it for a long time.

Aforementioned ugly loveseat. I think he was eating that towel in preparation for the loveseat stuffing!

Here's trouble:

Good thing he was cute. I think this picture is the cutest.

Then again, maybe this is the cutest?

Man's best friend.

Let me preface this photo by saying this was NOT animal cruelty! We had a hole in our porch door that he always tried to get in. Even when he was a baby, his head was too big!

I'm pretty sure they won the World Series because of him. :)

Running on the beach. He wasn't fond of the ocean.

He's thinking, "I see my stocking, I know which one is mine, I just can't reach it!"

Here are J & G showing him his Christmas loot:

He wasn't so sure of lobsters when they were alive, but LOVED their meat!

Our best buddy.

Loved, loved, loved the snow.

Loved to sleep!

While going through our photos of Max, I came across this one:

Even though it was taken years ago, I immediately remembered that I had given Max the postcard that J. had mailed to him from Florida. I found that postcard. I shed even more tears when I read it.