Sigh. I love writing, but I’m terrible about making updates to this blog. I had someone ask me about Katie recently, which reminded me that I hadn’t transferred the final entry about her from my other blog to this one. Seems like it should be easier to do that automatically, but it never seems to work well for me. Anyway…
We lost sweet Maggie May just a few months after we brought her home. She made significant improvement before leaving us, though, so here are some pics of her life in our family.
I took this after she’d finally gotten a bath.
I gave Maggie her first bath a couple of days after bringing her home. She was horrifically filthy. I was worried that she’d be afraid of the water, but she actually seemed to enjoy it. Once she was clean, I dried her as well as I could, then wrapped her in a towel and a blanket before bringing her into the living room and placing her beside me on the couch. She immediately curled up right against me and dozed off. She absolutely loved being close to me.
Briscoe checking out the new addition.
This is the day I brought her home. Briscoe was obviously curious, but didn’t mess with her beyond just a quick sniff.
Maggie turned out to be a burrower.
I was in the kitchen making supper one evening a few days after Maggie came home and heard a noise and looked up to find her rooting her way under the poofy bed she’d been lying on. It was the first time she’d done much movement on her own, proof that she was feeling better and gaining some strength.
Maggie passed out snoring in her dog bed sandwich.
This was taken a day or two after she had her first surgery. She was spayed, had her huge mammary tumors removed, and had her rotten teeth extracted. We were very happy that the vet managed to get that much done in a single surgery. As you can see, she’d gotten quite comfortable by this time, feeling far more secure in her surroundings than she had when I first met her.
This was taken before she’d had her surgery. You can see one of her enormous mammary tumors if you look closely. Her nails hadn’t been clipped, yet, either. It wound up taking three of us to get that chore done. I’m sure she’d never had it done before, plus her feet were still quite raw and sore.
Marble the cat was not the least bit intimidated by Maggie.
Maggie couldn’t see more than light and shadows, as well as movement. That didn’t keep her from trying to “catch” the cats when she was finally strong enough to get up and get around a bit on her own, though. She mostly tried to smack at them with her foot, which none of the cats actually enjoyed, but Marble wasn’t at all afraid of her. Briscoe just hated feeling left out. This look on his face is him wondering why I’m not making Maggie and Marble move so he can have the whole end of the couch to himself.
I’ll just lie right here.
This is Maggie’s passive aggressive way of trying to get Briscoe to give up his spot on the couch. He was on the end and I’d put her between us on a blanket of her own, but that wasn’t good enough. So she got up and moved over to crowd up next to him, knowing he wasn’t into cuddling with her.
Success!
And, her plan worked. Briscoe gave up and surrendered his spot to her. This was pretty much how it always ended.
Briscoe was a good, tolerant brother.
Maggie’s “happy place.”
She was a incredibly small girl and loved to be held.
She gained a bit of weight, but never stopped looking frail. Her front shoulders always splayed outwards from her body. Her back hips were unnaturally formed as well, making it impossible for her to run. She toddled around happily, though. She would wander around in the living room and kitchen, then come over to the couch and wait for one of us to lift her up onto it. Many of her problems improved dramatically and she got through her initial heartworm treatment okay, then had to go into the clinic for the second one. Tragically, her system just couldn’t withstand the stress.
She was such a sweet girl. Just precious in every way. Even now, months after her death, I’m still furious at whoever treated her so contemptibly. I also still struggle with the tragic reality of her life. I take comfort, though, knowing that the last few months of her life were filled with comfort and love.
Rest in peace, sweet girl.
