Wednesday, May 26, 2010


MAXMOM here...

I miss my Maxdog terribly!

I know this is “grief” and quite normal for us humans, but I feel like my chest is being squeezed to the point of bursting. My body aches as I try to curb my habits of calling for him, feeling him constantly by my side and hearing his tail thump on the floor in response. It’s the sounds that he used to make, which now are absent from my home, which really get to me.

For the past ten years Max has been within five meters of me for most of the time, 24/7, and I have to find a way to relieve this immense sense of loss. Writing about it helps. It’s an odd kind of catharsis but it has always worked for me. If it helps, I will continue to write my heart out!


I miss the sound of his deep moan at the end of the day which preceded his contented sleep.

I miss the sound of him lapping water during the night as I judged, from the comfort of my own warm bed, how much he was drinking and whether I will need to get up to replenish the water bowl for the other dogs.

I miss the sound of him rolling on his back as he invited Tammy to play in the morning and their delighted grumblings at each other as they mouthed and nipped each others’ jowls.

I miss the sound of his noisy shake when he got up from his game and that long, deep moan as he stretched himself before starting his day

I miss the sound of his paws padding down the passage and of him breaking his stride to sit and scratch the back of his neck.

I miss the clang of the food bowls. I know I still have three dogs in the house and still three bowls to fill, but the absence of his fourth bowl makes such a difference in the depth of tone during this task. The absence of the fourth measure of food grips also my soul.

I miss that deep guttural sound he made, like a soft “ggggt...ggg”, when he knew he was about to get his favourite treat. It is now also sadly absent.

I miss the peaceful sound of his shallow breathing which was constantly by my side.

The joy of his bark when I mentioned the word, “Walk!”. And I miss the sound of my pair of Goldens running trenches in our passage in anticipation of the outing.

I miss the echo of sound, in the cul-de-sac, of eight paws on the tar as they charged down to the grassy patch each evening and the sound of his deep bark as he announced himself to the neighbourhood. I miss the sound of his heavy breathing at the end of his lead which indicated his urgency to get going on the second stage of his walk.

The sound of streaming water when he emerged from the top step of the pool after his swim is also absent. So is his “Moan” as he asked me, in absolute obedience and trust, if he could enter the house despite being a wet dog.

Even the sound of him urinating in his favourite spot in the garden and letting it “all out” in spurts is a stark reminder that he has gone. I miss the sound of him rustling through the deep foliage of the wild rhubarb in our garden and I miss the heavy sound of him running around the house when I beckon him from the back to the front.

I miss that sudden intake of breath and sudden, but absolute silence when he’s on high alert and I just knew that he was in full male golden stance.

I miss Max talking to me...his familiar “mmmmm......Om!” when he wanted me to understand him and had taken the time to try and tell me something. The imagery of this is heavy because I can almost see and feel his tongue trying to shape the “O” sound and how he resolved the dilemma by merely licking his nose.

I miss the sound of him rolling on his back, in total exhilaration, in the passage after a scratch and the deep moan which emerged from somewhere deep inside him.

But it is the absence of his thumping tail on the floor to answer and acknowledge my enquiry which transforms me into aching grief. This void has prompted a complete visceral reaction in my being.

I could go on forever describing simply the sounds of him – not the gestures or mannerisms or habits – just the sounds, but it wouldn’t change anything. The fact remains...

I miss my Max! And the silence is deafening!

Sending lotsaluv to you all!


Angus said...

You're absolutely right the photos are the worst. This morning we downloaded some pictures from an old digital we'd misplaced somewhere in the move from Italy .There was 'nipper' staring at us large as life from the screen. Photos taken in June 2009 - almost a year ago. We have a routine I go out first thing in the morning with a cup of coffee and again last thing at night with a glass of wine and stand and have a little chat at the brow of the hill where he lies. Quite ridiculous, quite uncalvinist,drippingly sentimental but Wilf and I derive pleasure from it. After two weeks we can now look back calmly and say that there wasn't a moment we didn't treasure - not even when he shredded the boys homework.

kks said...

so hard to adjust from such a loss, so glad that you write about your feelings...these are the same ones we all have, but perhaps can't thanks for sharing, and i understand completely....
i remember when we lost our first golden Beau...the house, everything seemed so different...i would look at his place on the couch and stare in disbelief that he wasn't there....i really gained strength from having other dogs to care for, they needed me and i needed them...we grieved together in our own ways...and i still talk about my dogs that are gone! :)

Tama-Chan, Gen-Chan, Vidock, Violette, Ollie, Hotesse & Heloise said...

I remember when I lost Ikkyu, I could hardly bear to be in the house, so empty was it without him. So, I took myself out to do things, see people, anything and everything that would keep me occupied. It was like living the line from a poem by Lamartine which says "Un seul être vous manque et tout est dépeuplé" (you miss just one being and the whole world is empty).
Hang in there.

the magic sleigh said...

I want to give you a big hug. I know it hurts. go and hug one of the other dogs, let him give you kisses, there is healing in dog kisses, I am certain! Life will never be the same, but it goes on, grieve now and remember.

-Kira The BeaWootiful's Mom

MySpecialDoggies said...

Hi Caryl
Those missed moments will bring you comfort as time goes on - you'll remember something about Max and you'll cry, maybe smile or laugh and you'll say "remember when Max..." They are his legacy to you & your family.

Sending you hugs and best wishes,
Nadine, Apples & Neeli

Scout and Freyja said...

Your loss has become our loss and your verbalization of immense emotional pain is allowing others to share remembrances of loves lost long ago.

Tony: February 1, 1997. I remember dropping to my knees feeling as though my heart had been cut out of my chest with a butter knife. Sounds came out of me that were primal - guttural - not human. A cold wind blew through my soul that left me unable think about anything or anyone in a rational manner. My companion. My shining knight. My bed buddy. My protector. How was I to survive?

Starr: May 2004. The world stopped spinning and became dark for me - again. How could it happen to me again, I would ask myself over and over and over? Screaming into her ear as she lay lifeless on a steel table - commanding her to wake up - I forbid her to leave me. Grabbing her and kissing her feet and cradling her body to me - not wanting to leave - she was still warm - I couldn't leave. I felt as though I could will her to open her eyes. Again, those mournful, primal sounds - again the sun fell from the sky - my world became dark. I wouldn't leave her. I couldn't leave her. My son (called from work)carefully approached me and this dog of mine coaxing me to release her body - I did but not the grief which haunts me still.

Bouncing Bertie said...

In the week or two after Hamish died I would hear some irregular sound in the house and my immediate reaction of "oh and what's he up to now" was followed by a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach when I remembered that he was no longer around to cause trouble. In time I got used to him not being around with me at home, but still, every time I go someplace else where I used to go with Hamish (my parents' house, my Highland cottage etc.) it seems I have to go through the same process. It's as if I have to re-train myself to accept that he's no longer with me at each of the places we visited together.
Having Bertie does help a lot.
Best wishes,

Jake of Florida said...

Dear Caryl,

Not, thank doG, knowing yet those terrible sounds of silence -- except when the Boyz are still off at camp and I know they'll soon be back -- I can only imagine deep in my heart what you are experiencing.

All of those sounds. So many times we let our ears tell us where our furry companions are and what they are doing. Each sound a special joy.

The one you mentioned that struck a chord with me was one that, when Jakey first did it, my original WFT guru told me was impossible. You said Maxdog, trying to form a word, would then resolve the dilemma by licking his nose. Well, every meal time, I have both Jake and Just Harry sit by my side and I ask Jake a very silly question: "Jake, are you hungry? Do you want breakfast (or dinner)?" Ever since he was a puppy, Jake has responded by licking his lips. Amd sometimes he does what you describe Max as having done -- opening his mouth as though to say something. Just Harry, on the other paw, hears the question and just runs to his bowl.

Bless those memories. They hurt; but they are yours forever.

xxx Joan and the Barkalots

mayziegal said...

Oh Maxmom - how I wish I could reach across the miles to give you a hug. I'm so glad you're writing all these things down. I did the same when I lost my heart cat, Annabelle, because I was so afraid I'd forget. Years later, I came across that piece of paper and found that all the things I missed about her - things that were incredibly painful at the time - had turned into a warm trip down memory lane and instead of causing me tears, they made me smile.

I can only wish the same for you someday.

Sending you much love and strength,

KB said...

Dear Maxmom,

Oh, I remember so strongly the way that feeling in your chest feels like an anvil of pain. A number of dogs have passed away in my lifetime. One was extraordinarily special to me, and she died about 7 years ago. I truly felt like a lost soul in the months following her passing - I would cry almost hysterically every single morning when I woke up and she wasn't there.

Believe it or not, on the exact day that that my previous heart dog died, a breeder thousands of miles away was breeding two Labradors. Somehow, I got wind of the breeding and put my name in for a puppy. However, I didn't know that the breeding had happened on such a significant day until much later. Well, it turns out that my K was conceived on the very day that my previous heart dog had died.

When I met K, she ran away from me and tried to hide behind a washing machine. She was skittish and scared. She caterwauled for an entire day after I picked her up. It did NOT seem like a match made in heaven at the start. But, I've learned to love again. I feel that my previous heart dog opened me up to the depth of relationship that one can have with a dog and made me ready for my sensitive K.

That's a long story for a comment -- but I thought that you'd like it. I know that NO dog can replace another... so I'm not suggesting any such thing. It just shows that the heart does heal over time. But, I know that healing time can be unbelievably painful.

I'm thinking of you.

Golden Woofs! SUGAR said...

Woof! Woof! Sending you my Golden LOVE and Strength. Lots of Golden Woofs, Sugar

The Thundering Herd said...

That pain does lessen, and the tears do reduce and are more and more replaced by smiles, but to this day, I miss little things about dogs past. Nikita's way of talking was just different than the other dogs, and I am reminded of that when the others speak. But now I can smile at the memory.

P.S. - My security word is unowning - poor English, but interesting word for the moment.

Sheila and Bob said...

It seems that are entire lives are adjustments.
Some we make grudgingly,some with a song in our heart and some surrounded by warm memories that will always be.
Sheila & Bob

Pip said...

Oh Maxmom...

kissa-bull said...

we send you lotsa pibble sugars dearest maxmom. our hearts ache for your pain. our max candle still lights for your pack as you make your way throught this new journey.

pibble hugs full of our most warm warmness
the pittie pack

we made a tribute to max if you want to view it when you get a chance.

NCmountainwoman said...

I am so sorry to hear the news we all knew would be coming. Having lost two wonderful canine children in my life, I know how you feel. Our thoughts are with you as you grieve this tragic loss.

Mrs. JP said...

Write to your hearts content. That phrase has more meaning now. I know you've heard all the comforting things we can say but know that we mean them.
May the God of all comfort fill your heart with peace.

Ms. ~K said...

While I can’t take away the pain of the loss, please know I understand. Losing my pets is no less painful than losing human loved ones. Sometimes it is worse, as they are our constant, devoted companions.
Please continue to write, share your is excellent therapy.

How's Hubby coping?
Sending hugs of comfort and support to you,

Zona said...

The preceding comments have said it all. So simply: I'm sending more hugs to you. Please keep writing for your healing process, for prosperity, for your family... and for us.

Jill (Zona's mom)

Angel Junior, Orion and Sammy said...

I remember those feelings all too well, and all I can tell you, which you already know, is that things get better with time. But now you are in the midst of grieving, so I am sending you cyber hugs and my kitties are sending cyber kitty rubs.

Meowm Rhonda

♥I am Holly♥ said...

I know those feelings all too well. Write until you can't think of another word. Write all day and night. Just keep writing your thoughts. When I lost Alex in July, 2006, I thought I was going to die. I wanted to die. I held in my feelings though and didn't tell anyone and ended up with a heart attack. Your body needs to let out your grief. Please know that I am thinking about you and wish I could be with you. Lots of love to you, Debbie and Holly

Anonymous said...

ya, I missed the deafining silence too. I used to hear the jingle jingle of Maggie's tags and I kept her collar on my desk for a long time and would often just jingle it and sob. i sob as i write this. for Maggie and for Max and you.

Sunny,Scooter, (sometimes Jamie) said...

Man, do I absolutely get what you write... Can't breath, feel like someone has punched you right in the solar plexus. I wish I could help, but unfortunately this is your road to walk alone. I wish it were not.
Can't write very much, brings me back to my awful walks alone.
I decided that one never gets over a it, (death of dear human or heart dog) one eventually learns to live with it.
God Bless you and hope you can feel my hug.

Piappies World said...

We send you our hugs and licks, Maxdog Mom! We may not be certain how one goes really through the process of healing but we are here with you through these struggles.

Do express your feelings through writing. How we wish we can be more helpful.

Max is constantly watching over you and your family.

-Fudgie, Princess, Frappie, Mocha, Sugar, Wai-Pai, Wai-Max & the Piappies

My Mind's Eye said...

Dear Max Mom,
I too wish I could reach across the oceans between us to give you a hug.
I'm so glad that you are able to express yourself with these beautiful words and feelings. You and Max had the most amazing bond to each other's souls. That bond reached through cyberspace touching my heart and it made me give Madi more hugs a day probably more she probably wanted. Like most felines, she likes to decide when to bestow hugs and kisses. Bless her heart she didn't seem to mind too much. So you see you and Max gave so much to so many. With each hug I thought of you and Max.
So you write everything you feel and please know I'm reading every word and feeling every feeling.
Take care of yourself dear friend,
Madi and Mom

Unknown said...

I can't begin to imagine a life without Petey. It's difficult enough to remember life before he came into mine, almost 7 years ago. Every time I run into someone with an ancient Cairn Terrier (they are a hearty stock) I say a prayer that I too will have him by my side for the next ten years. Being single and working from home, he truly is my constant companion and I miss him when I'm away for more than a few hours. Your pain must be excruciating. Knowing it is shared by so many must be some small comfort.


Jane and Petey

Milo and Alfie Marshall said...

The mom speaks:

I so understand your grief. It's unbelievably hard to lose such an important part of your life. But remember ... Maxdog is just a whisper away and you can talk to him just as you always did. I am sure he is listening.


Sunshade said...

Dear Maxmom,

I'm sorry I have just found your blog via Jake of Florida's bloggie, and I'm so sorry about your special MAXDOG. Reading back, he seemed like a guy that was always happy, and like you said, "living life to the max" even moments before he passed on. Your love for him has been so eloquently put into words with this post, its hard even for the first timers to your blog to not shed a tear or two.

I'm sure it hurts like h*ll right now, but Maxdog has touched the hearts of many hoomans and canines, and we're all here for you. Take all the time you need.

Love nibbles,
Miss Sunshade

♥♥ The OP Pack ♥♥ said...

It is a rough road to walk, but it will get smoother. And if you didn't miss him, it would seem so odd. Just keep remembering the good times and smiling at those beautiful photos. Max is still smiling down at you from his special place.

Woos - Phantom, Thunder, and Ciara

sprinkles said...

It's always so hard to lose a loved one, whether it's human or pet. I still think about my previous pets and still get weepy on occasion when I think about them.

Reading your words, all those feelings came rushing back from when I lost my dogs and cat. I couldn't articulate it the way you did so beautifully but you expressed all those same feelings I felt.

Sadly, those feelings don't go away quickly. It does get easier but it never fully goes away.

I'm glad writing helps. Feel free to write about it for as long as you need to.

I totally get the deafening silence too! Even though you have other dogs, you're not really listening for them anymore. You're listening for the one who who isn't there. Funny how you can hear and see them still.

Sending lots of love and big (((HUGS))).

brooke said...

Jason laughs at me. He's like why do you torture yourself reading such sad things. And then he tells Darwin that I'm already imagining her death.
It's amazing how the loss of a dog you've never even met can touch you so deeply. We all are mourning with you. Your strength and your words help prepare me for the inevitable with Darwin (hopefully not for many many many years, though she's a Dane and I know her years are numbered more than others).
BIG hugs from us. And big hugs and cuddles to Tammy and the other pooches.

Anonymous said...

Dearest Caryl,

You pour out your pain so eloquently, so beautifully, so hauntingly. We all feel your pain. We feel our own pains of companions crossing over in our past, all in your words. We love your words, they do hurt. They make us feel, everything. Like our nerves are raw.

We hurt for you.

Big warm hugs, Tessa and Blu

Jacqueline said...

Such a perfect post; the lack of their routines and sounds, of their touch and smells, of their knowing looks and sweet eyes, etc all cause physical pain that I understand too well..."The silence is deafening" is so appropriate and descriptive of your deep sorrow...I found myself thinking of Max and crying about him on my drive home yesterday evening=I think his absence is being felt around the and hugs Caryl.

meowmeowmans said...

Thank you for sharing with us so poignantly what you are going through, Caryl. That you are grieving so deeply is testament to the amazing and unbreakable bond you and Maxdog had. Thank you for loving him so much.

Love, prayers and hugs to you.

Amy & the house of cats said...

I know that this has to be so hard for you - I felt the same way when Floyd passed, and still do sometimes. It is so hard to loose them. We just have to remember the good times, and know that we loved them as much as possible for as long as possible, and that they are at peace now.

Doris Sturm said...

Yes, the silence is is the loneliest feeling to lose a friend and companion whose memories haunt you like a ghost ... that is something I have to look forward to because my dog (my only dog) and I are very, very close and he's by my side constantly - 12, going on 13 and I thank God every day for him. I'm so sorry for your loss.
Just know that you were the best mom in the world to him and know you gave him a good life and never deserted him, even in his final hour.
My heart goes out to you!

Meg said...

My heart is literally breaking right now for you. I read your post and then caught up on the last few. I read your recap of "the day" and I cried and cried, I should have heeded your warning and not read it. I could not imagine being without any of my babies as I am sure you couldn't have either. I am sorry, my thoughts and prayers are with you.

The Life of Riley said...

Silence is so hard. When I lost my first golden I was alone during the day – no other humans or animals in the house with me. No daily routines of caring for him in his old age to follow, or listening for the sound of his breathing. It was so quiet – just the thoughts in my head, the memories and finding things I had never consciously been aware of that I missed so much about him, and my tears.

Writing helped – handwriting a keepsake journal for him (as mentioned to you in February) helped with all the unedited thoughts that were going round in my head – the “I miss you because…,” the “I loved the way you …” and the “I remember when …” thoughts. They were the thoughts that came to me at two in the morning or when I first woke up that I couldn’t share with most of my closest friends – as their lives revolved around other things (like their children's after school sports game or the latest drama at work). To them he was just a dog, and very little was said beyond asking how soon I was going to get a replacement or instantly changing the topic when I said I had taken my companion of twelve years to the vets for his final visit. (I’m can’t imagine saying to them, if one of their children died, that you can just get a new one or not even saying that you are sorry for their loss), but I know now that they weren’t dog people and hadn’t felt about a dog the way I did, so after the first few days I learnt to be quiet and to “act as if” life goes on.

But here on this blog Caryl, you have so many friends around the world who understand your pain, and how hard it is to loose a little friend that has been such a huge part of your life, so write – write here on your blog all the words you need to, hand-write in your Maxdog book things that are personal, and also make sure that you get more hugs than you need from those around you.


Golden Samantha said...

Oh Caryl, how I ache for your aching. I think your writing and memories - even of emptiness are beautifully articulated and I understood immediately all the noises that he made - perfectly - and those sounds in the hall and water dripping - you write so passionately about these things. I definitely think it helps to lay out on paper or blog just what your gut is going through. But so difficult. Like others, I so wish I could be there to give you a hug.
I know that time will eventually help heal the deep wounds a little, but as you lived your days with Max - one day at a time - a minute at a time, it seems like you are continuing. Give your furbabies hugs from us too. We are thinking of you so, so much.
Huge Hugs xoxoxo

3 doxies said...

I saw this today and wanted to share it with you.

To my dearest family,
some things I'd like to say.
But first of all, to let you know,
that I arrived okay.
I'm writing this from the Bridge.
Here I dwell with God above.
Here there's no more tears of sadness.
Here is just eternal love.
Please do not be unhappy
just because I'm out of sight.
Remember that I am with you
every morning, noon and night.
That day I had to leave you
when my life on earth was through,
God picked me up and hugged me
and He said, "I welcome you.
It's good to have you back again,
you were missed while you were gone.
As for your dearest family,
They'll be here later on."
God gave me a list of things,
that he wished for me to do.
And foremost on the list,
was to watch and care for you.
And when you lie in bed at night
the day's chores put to flight,
God and I are closest to you...
in the middle of the night.
When you think of my life on earth,
and all those loving years,
because you are only human,
they are bound to bring you tears.
But do not be afraid to cry:
it does relieve the pain.
Remember there would be no flowers,
unless there was some rain.
I wish that I could tell you
all that God has planned.
If I were to tell you
you wouldn't understand.
But one thing is for certain
though my life on earth is o'er.
I'm closer to you now
than I ever was before.
There are rocky roads ahead of you
and many hills to climb;
But together we can do it
by taking one day at a time.
It was always my philosophy
and I'd like it for you too;
That as you give unto the world,
the world will give to you.
If you can help somebody
who's in sorrow and pain;
Then you can say to God at night...
"My day was not in vain."
And now I am contented...
that my life was worthwhile.
Knowing as I passed along
I made somebody smile.
God says: "If you meet somebody
who is sad and feeling low;
Just lend a hand to pick him up,
as on your way you go.
When you're walking down the street
with me on your mind;
I'm walking in your footsteps
only half a step behind."
"And when it's time for you to go...
from that body to be free.
Remember you're not going...
you're coming here to me."

-Author Unknown


Valerie Cummings said...

Maxmom, I can only imagine. We are here for you. Please, we love that you are writing it all down! We feel the pain, right along with you. Just know that we are listening and want to give you warm hugs. (((hugs))). Love, Joey and Kealani and Valerie

NAK and The Residents of The Khottage said...

Yes - the silence -

I wrote my own piece called 'Hearing Something In The Silence'

Although it was more personal relationship related, the same concept applies -

It does get better - but truly never goes away -

And that is a good thing -

Don't forget, Max is missing his own sounds but I know he's hearing them from a different vantage point -

houndstooth said...

I can relate to much of what you said. Not carrying up that last food bowl was a tough one for me. My husband solved this problem by taking her food bowl and putting it away, but that didn't feel right to me, either. After Hawk died, I tried to move Blueberry's spot over to where he used to eat, and she staunchly refused. That was tough for me, too. The girls still view that as his spot, one of the few concessions they made to showing that they missed him.

It's funny how you learn certain sounds from them mean specific times of day. I can think of a handful of those myself.

The Bumpass Hounds said...

Hey Ms. Caryl,
We understand how much you miss Max. How could you not miss you shadow? How could you not miss your constant companion of over 10 years? Mom and dad tell us that the first two weeks are difficult but the first few days are almost unbearable. You have a heartache throughout your entire body. Max has scarred your heart and the hurt is deep and real. Time will ease the pain and hurt, but the heart scar will stay with you always. The bad memories will fade and the good, more plentiful, memories will brighten. Each of us dogs leaves a trace of ourselves behind in your lives to kindle a fond memory of us after we're gone. Old Bear Dog loved the autumn rustling of leaves when the wind blew. Rusty loved to eat salad and tomatoes. Before laying down on mom and dad's bed at night, Penny would make 2 defined circles on the bed, lay down and make a guttural gasp that we called her "harumph" after which she became 500 lbs of dead weight not to be moved until morning. Gordon, being blind and cautious, would shuffle along the wood floors with nary a tippy tap of his claws. We miss all of those actions and sounds. But we remember them at the drop of a hat and they always bring a smile to our muzzles and faces. It is GReat therapy to write about your feelings. That was what our very first blog was about; how much dad missed Chance. That's the one we sent you the address of the other day. We are honored to share your grief and to listen to your heart and soul. As far away as we are, we can hear it loudly. We love you all. Bitey face nips to the gang and a respectful play bow to The Boss. Wet slobbery licky kisses to you Ms. Caryl cuz we love y'all.

Tweedles -- that's me said...

Dear Caryl
In reading your words, it makes my mommy think. You say words that mommy was never able to speak when sadness touched her in years past.
She feels what your are saying ,as the words have roots and reaches deep. We understand what you feel.
Thank you for speaking words that sometimes never can be spoken by some mouths. In your sorrow - you help us.
Please keep writing.
We know this is all so very hard.
Don't let the sadness pull you into the swamps. We love you

Scruffy, Lacie and Stanley's Place said...

Dearest Maxmom...

You are so is the absence of the little noises of our beloved dogs that just hurts so much. And your words can just make me see how Max's tail must have thumped...

There is no right or wrong way on this journey you are on...a journey of sadness, but growth. And a journey of love. The love of your heartdog trancends all dimensions and was with you yesterday and shall be with you tomorrow. You miss the earthly thump of this tail, and it's hard to hear the celestial one...

But it's is Max, surrounding you with love.

And he's surrounded you with wonderful amazing hoomans from across the globe to help you with your journey...a wonderful gift from your beautiful golden boy.

I had Stan out tonight...a wonderful hot and humid evening...we saw a Golden in the distance...healthy and vibrant...

And we loved him...Max, I whispered to Stan...that could have been Max. He's put the face on a breed...and we felt his magnetic pull. What a powerful thing to have the wonderment to love many from knowing one...

Keep writing...we're here!

Love, Mumsie...and Lacie, my editor in chief....

KT and Easton said...

Keep writing, it helps a lot. I didn't start until after Devo was gone, but I'm glad I did. Like Max's journal, all of this, now... when it is fresh in your mind and your senses are razor sharp with his the time to do it. Speaking of time, that's what it takes, a whole bunch of it to heal and you'll never even notice. Just keep writing and smiling at the beautiful memories. All of us understand and relish every word, because you shared Max with us for many months/years - so thank you.

Martine said...

Dear Caryl and family,
I am so sad about the loss of your dearest Max. He was an absolutely fantastic dog. I am also a dogmom so I can understand your pain.
You had a wonderful time with him and he will always live in your heart.
Please keep writing...I'm gonna keep reading...
Hugs and kisses from Alsace/France

Angel Ginger Jasper said...

Dear Caryl, I feel so much your pain. I remember these feelings so well from when I have lost my previous spaniels and kitty's. It does get better and you will remember the good times. It is as you say part of the grieving. Your beloved Max will be I am sure watching you and sending you healing thoughts. Max loved and lived life to the full. You write on and let all your emotions out in word because I am sure it helps. Wish I could give you a hug but sending a virtual one.. Hugs Carol and GJ x

The Strawberry Mallard said...

With all our hearts, we know that Max runs free of pain, with Java, Puffy, and all the wonderful souls that make our journey through life a little easier. Keep blogging, and know we are oh so very sorry.
Many hugz, paw lickz and hugz,
Nancy, G-dog and Becky

Sweepy said...

Woof, MaxMom!
Keeper left and cried as she remembered my brother Bogart who left us just last month...

It is not easy losing anybody. And yes, it is not easy missing the things that make them special. I miss Bogart's licking...

Friends tell us not to be afraid to grieve and to remember and be happy with our memories. After all, Max and Bogart did not really leave us, they just left ahead of us, and will meet with us, somewhere where the road is less drooly...

Becky Andrews said...

We so understand. Thank you for your love and support as we are going through this. xoxo.