Man's Best Friend Is Gone

It was 4:30 am. I was sitting on my lanai swilling coffee and trying to wake-up in preparation for my 6 am radio show when I heard the sickening thud, the squeal of tires and the scraping of scattering gravel. Immediately, I called for Max. He had followed me outside in the pre-dawn darkness. In the restored silence of early morning, there was no familiar sound of rattling dog tags in the distance. My heart sank as I hurried roadside, eyes straining in the blackness to make out shapes that might indicate the source of that horrible thud. Nothing... no car, no sound. Then I saw him. His still form was lying in the damp grass across the road, warm to the touch but there was no life left.  


Max. Sexy beast, canine magnificent, superb snuggler, incessant smiler. He came to us almost ten years ago, a rescue from the animal shelter. Intended to be a watch dog, Max had other plans and immediately marched into our home and made himself comfortable. It was only a couple of months later, during a rare & violent thunder storm that he was overtaken with fear and jumped into our bed, quivering and cowering as he nestled snugly between us. And there he remained every night afterwards. 


Max.. amazing animal, much loved by everyone who met him. He smiled, he danced at dinner time, he talked and greeted those he loved with a long, low, modulated howl. He had his own cat who loved him dearly and followed him everywhere. At night, they would lie together at the foot of the bed as Max would lick her fur until she was soaking wet. The cat is prowling the house now, looking for her friend. She is already missing him. So am I.


Carefully wrapped in a clean sheet and lying in the bed of the pick-up truck, Max waits now for me to transport his remains to the the vet where he will be cremated. I dread the task.


Max is pictured above with my father, circa December 2001.