Maggie was the snow hike leader, followed by Jim and our grandchildren.
She wasn’t much for raking leaves, but she was always up for rolling in them with the family.
She had the sweetest smile.
Charles Schultz, author of Peanuts, wrote, “Happiness is a warm puppy.”
For more than twelve years, happiness for our family has been a warm and amazing dog named Maggie. With a capital M. When our son-in-law was a policeman in the little town of Canton, KS., he found her abandoned in the back yard after the renters had moved out. He and our daughter already had two large male dogs, but they knew immediately the Colorado couple who would agree to rescue this dog.
When we adopted Maggie, we had no idea that in the big scheme of our lives, Maggie would actually rescue us and prove what writer Roger Caras said, “Dogs are not our whole lives, but they make our lives whole.”
This was not the post I had planned to write today, but life had other plans. Yesterday afternoon, Maggie suddenly could not stand. Six weeks ago blood tests and a checkup showed everything was good, but in just a short time, a fast growing tumor formed between her ribs and against one kidney. Last night Jim and I sat with Maggie in the vet’s office, saying our good-byes and stroking her head until she quietly went to sleep.
My words are too sad to write, so I’ll borrow from Dean Koontz: “Once you have had a wonderful dog, a life without one is diminished.” Our lives are diminished without Maggie, but we’re ever so grateful for the many years she was our trusted and loyal friend and a beloved member of our family.
She led the way, and we happily followed.
Maggie was born a Kansas dog, but she was Jim’s favorite Colorado hiking buddy.
At my mom’s recent 97th birthday, when things got too hectic, Mom closed her eyes, and Maggie when over to rest next to her.
Things I Want To Tell My Mother 