Farewell, Madison

We took some photos the night before we put Madison down

Our first dog, Brandy. She was a great frisbee dog - even in the snow.


Our second dog, Bailey. What a sweetie.

Madison as a puppy

On Friday, I took Madison, our lab, to the vet to be put to sleep. I made the appointment several days ahead of time so that everyone could give her some extra loving. She was 13 years old.

Brandy, a cocker-lab mix, was our first dog. We got Brandy when we first started dating almost 20 years ago. She was a great frisbee catcher. She moved with us from our apartment to our house. Unfortunately, Brandy started acting up and snarling whenever we disciplined her. Helen got to where she was scared of Brandy. One evening Helen had to lock Brandy in a bathroom because Brandy had turned on Helen. I came home from work and immediately dropped Brandy off at the vet and told them to put her down because she would no longer take discipline. I didn't actually stay, so I don't know if they actually put her down or not. I'm black and white on the master\pet relationship, so it was a "no-brainer" decision for me, but we both still bawled.

Bailey, a black lab, was our second dog. We got her soon after moving into our house. My brother's wife, Laine, was in Knoxville visiting a college friend whose dog had a new litter of puppies. Laine thought that Brandy might like a pal. She was a very gentle and sweet dog and never gave us much trouble. She wasn't overly affectionate and was fine staying in her own space, which is better than following you around everywhere - like Madison.

Bailey had a gentle\sad disposition anyway, but she seemed to miss Brandy so we decided to get another dog. We answered an ad in the paper and drove to a run down shack of a place near Athens and picked out Madison. We picked her because she seemed to have the most spunk of the litter. We thought, compared to Bailey, it might be nice to get a dog with a little more personality.

It wasn't long before Madison chewed the cushions on our new sofa and chewed holes in our new carpet. For a few years, we had to crate her while we were gone. She was somewhat neurotic. She followed us from room to room, panted uncontrollably during any storm, picked her food out of her bowl to eat on the carpet, always took a dump when you walked her - even if she'd just taken one in the yard before the walk, etc. She could also be very sweet. She thought she was a lap dog and would drape herself on you whenever you watched tv. She and Bailey got along well and were pals for a long time. They especially loved it when we took them to the river to play. They slept in our bed with us and we spoiled them.

Eventually, we had kids. We bought a van so there would be enough space for the dogs too. Of course, it wasn't long before the kids took over our lives and the dogs were relegated to the much lower position of barely sufferable. Although we had the van, we rarely took them anywhere with us. They got kicked out of our bed and when we addressed them it was to tell them to "move", "get out of the way", "hurry up", etc.. The dogs eventually got more affection once the kids got a little older.

So that only leaves Lula, the dachsund we adopted a year ago from a lady at Helen's school, and Grayson, a cat Helen adopted after she found it roaming the halls at her school. Before Grayson, we used to have a black cat, Atreides, but we found him crying in the garage one day and rushed him to the vet. He died on the way and the vet said he had suffered some internal injuries as if he had been hit by a car.

As much as I'm ready to be pet free, I still cried going through old pictures for this blog post. I think it's because with any loss, it's not necessarily the final act that makes you sad, it's all the associated memories. I find it comes in waves. You feel like you're at peace with the loss and, wham, it hits you and you don't even see it coming.

All the old photos of the dogs remind me of just how fast life has passed; of our early marriage years; of all the hopes and dreams of younger days; of buying our house; of empty rooms that would one day hold children we didn't yet know and now cannot believe haven't always been a part of our lives.

The years passed so fast - Derek will be 10 in the spring. We should have packed the dogs in the van and gone on a picnic more often.