Max Was a Mighty Good Dog: When Pets Cross Over

I’ve been wanting to write this post for a while, but felt I needed some time to contemplate, observe, and most importantly, grieve. You see, this past June, I was faced with the heartbreaking decision to euthanize a beloved pet.

Max was a “Schnoodle,” a Schnauzer-Poodle mix with incredibly long, spindly legs. I adopted him when he was 5 years old. When he was younger (and had all four of his legs) he could leap like a gazelle.

Over time, Max lost a hind leg to cancer, lost one eye to a torn retina, went totally blind from SARD (Sudden Acquired Retinal Deficiency) and then, as a final insult, lost the remaining, blind eye to a medication-related mistake.

Despite all this, he lived to be over 15 years old, and was swimming in the pool earlier this summer, just like every summer before.

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The Wages of Sin

Recently, at my gym, I was accosted in the locker room by a fellow member whom I must assume was a fundamentalist. He either recognized me from my business cards which are displayed on a wall along with many other local business’ cards, or perhaps by word of mouth.

He began speaking loudly, above the din of the crowd (there were about 8 other men present at the time). “Fortune tellers are the agents of the devil, my friend,” he said. And he began getting rather impatient as he realized everyone was staring at him, but no one was nodding their head in agreement with him.

Perhaps they were simply stunned, as was I.

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