Maximus Dog

Dad's letter to all of us, after putting Max down (he had been suffering for quite some time due to cancer)

I think you all know the story. Sandy wouldn't let me have a dog. I had tried periodically through the years, but she wouldn't hear of it. "I don't need another child to clean up after," she would say. And that was that. Christmas 2002, Aaron had been wanting a dog, so I suggested he include that on his letter to Santa. Sandy couldn't reject a letter to Santa. Sandy sure wasn't too happy when she saw that letter, but what could she say? When I went to the place appointed by Santa to pick up Aaron's "golden" I found a garage full of beautiful, fluffy puppies. They all came toddling out to greet me. I decided, there's no way to choose, so I'm just going to take the first one who gets to me. And that was Max. It was love at first sight. The first place I went after picking up Santa's gift was Carey Junior High. Aaron was at 8th grade basketball practice. When I walked through the door and Aaron saw me, he left the floor and headed over to hold his soon to be best friend. Again, love at first sight. Through the years, all too few, Maximus has been a pure treasure. You all know how he saved mom from the "huge black dogs" who were about to knock her off her bike, how he jumped for joy whenever anyone came to visit, how he almost did back flips when Doug returned from the Ukraine and Marc from Germany and Aaron and Katie from school, how he and Rascal used to romp through the yard, wrestling and "fighting" and chasing each other, how he growled at the name of "John Kerry" and ate pancakes for breakfast and jumped up on the couch in the theater room when we'd let him . . . which was usually. Most of all you remember how much he loved everyone, and how everyone loved him. Even the FedEx lady knew Max by name! Today, when I told Susan Robinson, our neighbor, that Max was gone, she just sobbed. Between the sobs, she said, "Lee will be devastated." Why would someone react that way? Why mourn so the loss of a dog. Simple, Max wasn't just a dog. He was one of us. He could never be registered as a pure breed retriever, because his dad was killed before they finalized his paperwork. So we called Max our "mutt." He was just a regular "person," just like all the other Baileys - no pedigree - but with a heart as large as the world through which he roamed.

Bri asked if we'd get another dog. Right now the answer is, "No." I don't think Sandy would permit it. This time, not because she just doesn't want a dog, but because she would only be satisfied with Max. And there couldn't be another one like him.

I told him yesterday when I left him at the vet's office, "You've been a good friend, Max. We love you." Somehow, I think he understood what I was saying. At least he smiled when I said goodbye.

dad

Responses to Dad's letter:

I think most of you remember my old roomate, Shiloh,
who came and visited a few summers ago. Mom remembers
how we went out on the deck every morning to read his
Book of Mormon.

Well anyway, I thought I'd forward you all his
thoughts on the passing of Maximus Dog. As he says in
his email, he didn't spend much time with Max, but he
was certainly left with a strong impression.

Maxie Boy was good fellar, a true champion, even
though he never was quite coordinated enough to catch
a scrap of food in the air. He certainly more than
made up for that with his outstanding play in left
field (during backyard wiffle ball games), his John
Kerry trick, and most of all his loving heart. I never
met a more loving dog.

We'll all miss him, but you can bet your bottom dollar
he's in Heaven right now, playing with Pepsi, Buster,
Tiggie, Betsy, Sasha, Fred, and all the rest. And I
know he'll be there when our time comes.

See you at the crossroads, Max!

Shiloh Winder's response:

That's hard news Brother. I really felt Max would be with us for years to come. It's hard to imagine that he's gone.

I've never encountered a dog that had such a keen understanding of the people's world and his relationship to it.

Max had a great heart. I only spent a few days with him, but I felt a stronger connection to him than I ever thought I'd feel with an animal. I love my parent's Akita, but he's nothing like Max. The Shellback Ranch will miss him badly.

Send my condolences to Aaron and the whole family.

Jeff's Response:

We're all very sorry and sad about the loss of Max. Draya asked me
yesterday, "how are we going to tell Jackson that Max is gone?" His first
words in pulling up to Mom and Dad's house are always "hi Maxy" or
"Maxy, where are you?" Even with his allergies, Jackson couldn't stay
away from that lovable dog. One thing's for sure, when he's old enough to
understand and see the countless pics of himself and Max playing
together, he will smile. We will all smile.

love,
Jeff