It’s finally time.
Time to post about Maggie. I knew I needed to do this post, not for me, but her. I knew I needed to get some distance, I needed to find the words, but most of all I needed to do her justice. Because to us, she wasn’t just a dog that lived with us, she was family; an integral part of our family of 6. She was engrained into our day, our life, and our hearts, and without notice she was gone. Just gone…. Our little family of 5 is now trying to put together the pieces to our puzzle meant for 6, and though we fit, the gaps are noticeable and we know it’s not the same. And it won’t be. With that, she deserves to be remembered and so I write this post.
There are so many things to remember, so many things to put down.
She was unique, stubborn, and magnificent, all in one. She was Maggie.
Matt and I named her during pillow talk; she would be called Lady Magnificent (Maggie for short) Traver Ross, and she lived up to her name.
We were able to witness her birth and we visited her every weekend until she was old enough to come home to us. She was our first trial run at parenthood. We spoiled her, we loved her and she taught us about what it meant to love someone as your own.
Since she was so small, we used sand bags as stepping stones to help her back on the patio.
She was the first one to know we were pregnant. She would lay on my stomach and keep it warm, only to find out a month later I was having Lillian. They were born 1 month, 1 year apart.
The first Halloween my mom and I carried her around like a baby while Katelynn went trick or treating.
She loved to chase a ball. The excitement overtook her and she ran as fast as she could to catch it. By far her favorite pastime.
She knew only two tricks – where’s daddy and superman. If I said “where’s daddy” she would find Matt and climb up to give him a million kisses.
If you held her up in the air, she spread her legs and arms up to simulate flying. Self-taught, but super awesome tricks.
She loved fully, when she wanted to. She was a cat in spirit and a dog in body. She was amazingly graceful.
She came to you when you needed her, not when you wanted her. She knew when she was needed.
She was known as Mags for short and Magaroni for long.
Road trips with her led to stares from other drivers. The only place she felt comfortable was on our necks and so, we had a parrot dog while we traveled.
She ensured we wouldn’t leave her behind and spent her time while we visited family or friends, next to my purse or in the suitcase. That’s where she felt safe.
She had two beloved toys, and those were hers. No matter how many toys I bought for Maggie and Charlotte, Charlotte always overtook them all except those. Charlotte knew those were not to be touched.
Maggie was a great hugger, she had a way of nestling into your neck. That’s such a vivid memory, that I can still feel and smell her. I hope that doesn’t go away.
She gave the illusion that she only tolerated Charlotte, but was always waiting at the door letting us know Charlotte wanted to come inside, if we had not noticed. For the first few days after she died, Charlotte wanted us to keep the door open so we could let Maggie in. They looked after one another in a very respectful way.
We put up gates in our house to keep the puppies in the main living area. Maggie was small and she was smart, and quickly she figured out she could squeeze through the bars. She showed us!
She loved our family, but she connected with me. Everyone knew she favored me and she didn’t shy away from it. I was her person.
On March 23rd, her little world changed, and so did ours. Without any noticeable signs, her body quit functioning. A trip to the emergency vet, and a short family visit later, we had to make the most selfless choice. The hardest choice. We did everything we could, the vet did everything he could and we were just prolonging what we knew would be the end. She was only alive because of the machines. As I sat petting her through the incubator, her face said it all. She was done. She would stare at me and then turn away as she didn’t want me to see her this way. That she was hurting and she knew. After the ultrasound it was all confirmed. Her kidneys had failed and her body was poisoning itself. We had to say goodbye. When it was all said and done, we walked out broken. That morning she was jumping on my lap kissing on me, and that evening I was putting her to rest. It was a hard pill to swallow, for all of us. It still is. The unexpected change was and is hard. Lots of questions unanswered and even though we know the reality, the creeping thoughts of “what else could I have done” linger.
So like I mentioned at the beginning of this post, she was an integral part of our family, a very important piece that helped shape us, into us. Her 7 short years were impactful, she was impactful. She wasn’t just an animal, she was family, our family and we miss her so much.
