Maggie Mae Samuelson

Before today I didn't know a dog could break my heart. I grew up on cats, farm cats that came and went. And cows. They came and went too, to the butcher. Maggie is the first and only dog I ever lived with, loved, and cared for. She's the only dog I've ever really known.

She was really old, and we all knew her time was running out. I thought I would be happy about her long life and health, so it wouldn't be so sad when the time came. But nothing really prepares you for the absence and the silence, or the feeling of being alone in the house and truly being alone. I miss her nails on the hardwood, the jingle of her collar, her annoying-ness, her pushy-ness, her need to be in the way of everything all the time. I miss her like I've never missed a pet before. I did not know that loving a damn dog could be so great and so hard.

After fourteen years of tip-toeing to bed to not step on her. And fourteen years of bad breath, following me into the bathroom, and the best dog cuddles it just feels so wrong. I wish more than anything to have her back for one more day. She was an everyday constant, a sweet head in my lap, a shadow that followed me everywhere. And it seems so empty now. In our house and in my heart. 

Looking back, I wish gave her more love. I feel bad for the days she was just another check on my to-do list. For the days, especially at the end, where I was annoyed with her. But I'm sure of the fact that she felt loved and that she did belong. I think she knew something was up when we loved on her hard and cried tears on her fur.

We would always joke that you were a good dog, but you could be a better dog. But for being the world's most ok-est dog, you sure left a mark on my heart. Love you lots old girl.