Goodbye, Max

Over on the right, under my picture, there is a picture of Max.  We adopted Max a couple of years ago from the Southwest Missouri Humane Society.  The best guess was that he was 5 or 6 years old; all I saw was a scrawny abused dog who would not come out of the back of the pen he was in -- a pen he was in alone.  We looked at each other, looked at the dog, and went home.  Two days later we were back at the SWMoHS; we took him for a walk and decided to take him home.  We never expected much of him.  We thought he wouldn't make it through that first winter, he was in such bad shape. He'd lived his entire life in a trailer with other dogs; once in a while, I guess, someone would bring them food.  His back had been broken.  When they got him at the shelter, he weighed 55 pounds -- an old English Sheepdog, who should weigh 100 pounds.  At first, he stayed in the garage under Ray's desk.  He wouldn't eat or drink if anyone was in the room with him.  Max never really did get over that.  He didn't bark for two weeks after we got him home. But he came around.  He became a dog.  For such a big dog -- he did eventually get to 100 pounds -- he was very timid.  If someone came to the house, he'd bark and back up.  He hated to go out in the rain.  He came when we called if he felt like it. But he loved the place in Willow Springs, and he liked us, I think.  He didn't like many people and no other animals, but he did like us.

For a while, Max has had trouble running and walking; he had a hard time lying down, and his skin was a mess; no matter what we did, even when he was flea-free, he'd chew on himself till he bled.  We found nothing that would help.  He was miserable, and getting worse.  We left him with a pet sitter when we were in Cuenca, and he wouldn't do his business outside for her.  She tried her best.  And, even after we got home, he went inside.

Ray took Max to the vet today, and after a long talk and much thought, decided to do what we'd known for a while had to be done.  Max is at rest now, at peace (if I can say that about a dog), and I miss him.  For such a useless dog, he was the best.