How it all started

Michael grew up with dogs; I grew up with cats. I always thought (and Michael still jokes) that I would be an old cat lady... But even before we got married, Michael wanted a dog. Not just any dog - he wanted a mastiff. It was what he always wanted...and so it was what we got. It took somewhere around 2 minutes for me to become hooked. I gave it 2 minuites seeing as how the little thing chewed our hands and made Michael bleed. Otherwise, it was love at first sight!

We referred to Duke as our first born. And, as wrong as it is, we anthropomorphised - we gave him a "human" voice. We didn't have human children, and so it was the closest thing we had. It wasn't long before Mike and I wanted another, and Duke "wanted a sister." And so we started looking.

I had always wanted a German shephard...until I had a mastiff. Now, I couldn't see having anything other than another mastiff. We found a breeder close to us and arranged to have one of the next littler. As it turned out, we'd be able to pick up our new pup right after we planned to return from our annual vacation out west. Just before we left on our trip, we had the pleasure of picking our girl from the bunch.

I looked at each one carefully. Some were lighter than others. I wanted a darker one...to "match" Duke. Some were larger, more assertive. But then there was this little thing that seemed to try to hide in the grass. I picked her up and cradled her in my arms. Almost instantly, she was asleep. Although I was concerned about her small size (was she eating enough? was she the runt? could she be assertive enough to get food amoung her litter mates?), I fell instantly in love.

It was set. When we returned from vacation, we would pick up our girl Aqua Flowers. She'd been named that by the breeder. As each puppy was born, they slipped a homemade collar on the new pup's neck. This one had been embroidered with aqua colored flowers. Ans so, until we gave her a new name, she was known  as Aqua Flowers.

We spent most of the next several weeks trying to decide what to call her. We tossed around several nomes, but none had the right ring to them. (Duke was of little help in the process. Mostly he grumbled about having a little slobbery sister...) We knew we needed to include "Duchess" and "midnight." What was a Duke without a Duchess? And Midnight was the name of the breeder. And it needed "Maxwell" in there somewhere too. That was the name of the Scottish clan that the family name Kirk belongs to.

And then it hit us: Margaret...and we'll call her Maggie. It had a great ring to it. So, with just a few days to go, we decided our new girl would be "Duchess Midnight Margaret of Maxwell."

Grief

Grief is a funny thing. It makes you want to laugh when you should be serious; cry when you should be laughing; and feel that screaming, throwing things, and sitting quietly all go together quite naturally. It makes getting up in the middle of the night to shove pills - and cheese or peanut butter or hot dogs...or anything that will work- down the dog's throat is normal.

I know there are stages of grief - anger, denial, acceptance, whatever - and I think there are stages of pre-grief as well. In these last few weeks Michael and I have been everywhere on the emotional map. We've been utterly devastated and hopeful in the same hour. We've been angry and then resigned the next hour. We have been through every stage of grieving...sometimes in one day. Its like grief showed up before it needed to. Maggie is still hanging in there, yet we've been grieving her for days. It makes me wonder what affect our  emotions have had on her.

I look at Duke, our almost-9-year-old mastiff mix and know he understands about as well as a dog can. He looks sad. He gargoyles: body on the sofa, legs dangling off the front, head drooped down between his front paws, eyes trained on the floor. He has seen all of this before. He has outlasted "Uncle Milton," "Aunt Hershey," and "Aunt Bailey." He's seen us process the loss of three golden retrievers. He knows what it looks like. He seems to sense something. He kisses Maggie a bit more, for no reason. He lays down on the sofa with her, when normally he would kick her off and have the couch to himself. I feel like he's looking out for her. So, if he is taking cues from us, I know she is too.

So we continue through this process. Michael and I know what is coming...eventually. Some hours of some days I think we'll make it to Christmas. I think we'll have another winter together of watching Maggie take giant bites of snow off the patio chairs. Some hours, especially in the middle of the night, I wonder if we'll make it to next week. And some hours I am content to have today, and to make the most of it. I don't know how many tomorrows we'll have together.