Goodbye, Sweet Girl

I haven't written an entry to this blog in years--life simply got too busy, and I since I write for a living, I have to prioritize my work. But in case anyone comes across this blog, I'm coming back to finish the story.

We had to say goodbye to Madge this morning, 13 years after she came into our lives. It was a good 13 years, and I'll always be grateful to her for becoming part of our family and giving us so much love.

Madge came from West Virginia and was part basset hound and part pit bull, an odd mix that often caused people to stop me on the street and ask, "What kind of dog IS that?"

Madge was anxious and suspicious of strangers, but she unreservedly loved the the little child who snuggled with her on the couch and took her for walks. I suspect she probably watched with puzzlement over the years as that child grew up into a six-foot-tall adult.

She was physically powerful and possessed a pit bull's frenetic energy--once she jumped up on the window seat in our living room and shattered the glass with her butt, and another time dug a passageway through a four-foot snowdrift in the backyard with her head. Nevertheless, she was surprisingly gentle with an assortment of small dogs who were her companions--Tippy the pug, Joey the mixed terrier, and Kirby the puggle, who've all since gone to the Elysian dog park.

As she got older, she spent most of her time sitting on the couch with her last companion, our six-year-old chin-pug Tigger. She had to have her cancerous spleen removed last year, which gave her another 10 months to enjoy sniffing the bushes at the park, barking indignantly at delivery workers, and sitting every morning with my wife for a little girl time.

But eventually she got sick again, and after struggling for several weeks, last night let us know that it was time. After the vet came and helped her go, we took her body out to the porch, wrapped in one of her blankets. I went back inside to have a cry. Martha, who stayed with her a bit, was surprised to see a Monarch butterfly fluttered onto the porch and landed on our sweet, beloved old girl for a second, as if it was another traveler pausing to wish Madge well on her journey.