A letter to Maggie: before you go

 To my sweet baby girl, I wish you could read this but I think that you probably feel my sadness and feel my love. Today we learned that your lungs are covered in tumors which will, rather quickly, take you away from me. I feel like this news is actually worse than your first cancer diagnosis… I think because at least with that one I knew I had a wee bit more time with you. Now though, I’m told I’ve got days possibly weeks at the most, but you will start feeling real terrible, real soon. 

That being said… I’ve got a few things I want you to know before you go.

First, you are the best dog I’ve ever had… and I’ve had quite a few. I do think you are my dog soul mate if such a thing exists. I’ve been so lucky to call you mine and I will never forget the day I picked you up on Connecticut. Actually, I’ll never forget the moment I met you. Your name was Margo at the time and, in retrospect, I think Margo suits you just as much as Maggie. But I had decided I wanted a Maggie May so I could sing you Rod Stewart.

Second, you taught me so much and I am a completely different person than I was on the day I picked you up. I’m a better, stronger, more responsible person as a result of you. You taught me the importance of routine. You taught me the importance of active and daily mindfulness. You taught me to enjoy the moment because moments are fleeting. I remember on so many morning walks in Roger Williams when you’d be just up ahead and I’d be looking at your long, muscular legs thinking to myself, “I love that dog and my walks with her, but remember to enjoy it now because this won’t last forever.” I thought that often, I don’t know why, but I did. Perhaps it’s cause you’re a big dog and I knew your life span was going to be short on this earth (though I didn’t think it’d be this short). People always loved to remind me that you’ll have a short life span. Why do people do that?

Third, I’m going to miss you, girl. I’ll probably miss you every day for the rest of my life.  It might be a bit debilitating at first but eventually I’ll learn to live with the grief and learn to let you live on in my heart. You’ll always be with me. 

Thanks so much for all the wonderful memories. I don’t think I ever had so much fun with one single dog. We’ve had a lot of great adventures together and I’m glad I got be on those adventures with you. You have made me so happy. I have loved being your mom more than pretty much anything else. Thank you for letting me care for you. You’re simply the best. 

Finally, I want you to know that I won’t let you suffer and the moment you indicate it’s time I will take you to the vet so you can peacefully cross that bridge. You will have me and your dad by your side and we will hold you till the end (and probably longer). 

I love you, Tail Wags.