Losing Max

A week away from the city did us some good, but little did I know we'd come back from the island without our big, lovable dog. Max died in the early morning hours on Saturday, March 29. Today would have been his 12th birthday.

Max was a gift -- a Father's Day surprise in 1997 -- from my wife and kids, who had heard me say for many years that I wanted a big dog. Well, big is what I got. He weighed close to 90 pounds after three months and topped out at 110. No surprise, given he was half Black Labrador and half Great Dane. Standing erect, he could put his head on the kitchen table without even trying. His paws filled your fists and his noggin weighed the same as an anvil.

For as big a dog as he was, he was never mean or aggressive -- just a friendly, mellow guy with warm brown eyes who loved to put his head in your lap. He was patient, too, with Otto, our Jack Russell terrier, who would literally run circles around him and greet him everyday with licks and play-bites.

As he aged, Max developed the predictable hip and hind leg problems that afflict Great Danes. Increasingly, he had to expend a lot of upper-body strength to get to his feet. Painkillers seemed to help some, but in the last couple of weeks we noticed he was slowing down even more.

On Friday night, after dinner guests had left, Max began showing signs of distress. I had to carry him to the porch, where he lay on his side, his eyes reflecting fear and worry. We brought him back inside and lay with him, covered with blankets on the kitchen floor and his head resting on a pad. His breathing grew more labored and we just stayed with him, petting him and channeling the love and concern expressed by Jordan, who had asked after him in his first phone calls from Fort Benning. (Max, after all, had essentially become Jordan's roommate after he could no longer climb the stairs to our bedroom.)

Death came around 2:30 a.m. We took the ferry to a veterinary hospital in Anacortes so he could be cremated. We'll get the ashes sometime next week and probably keep some here and take the rest up to the island. If he had to go, we're glad it was on Orcas Island. He loved the fresh air and seemed so much at peace, spending time with the ones who loved him.

For a dozen years, Maxie Boy gave us nothing but love, affection and loyalty. We will miss him dearly.