As a young dog Max was a constant mischief maker. Oh, it was nothing serious, but he always took a morning run and would return home with various prizes, food of course, often with tell tale signs of where they came from. Packs of donuts, McDonald's cartons, or just a loaf of bread were some of the prizes he gathered. We kept him in a fenced in area but he always found a way to get out with some of his friends.
His best friend was Kahuna, a cat who is still with us and is about three years his senior. As they both aged, they would lie on the porch together and I really think they were reminiscing their younger years. Max was always the gentleman with Kahuna and with people, except for one thing: he was a major league sniffer. But once he checked you out he would usually just lie beside the chair and participate quietly in whatever conversation was taking place.
My book, Honey, We Shoulda' Bought the Ark (available at either outskirtspress.com/honeyweshouldaboughttheark or Amazon.com/author/jamesdick) has a chapter devoted to Max and his life with us so I won't repeat the same stories here, but suffice it to say that he was all dog, he was his human mama's special boy, and there will always be an empty place in the heart for this loving fellow. He had just suffered enough with cancer and joint problems and when he couldn't stay on his feet today, I knew his time had come.
He's buried here on the farm in a special place to the side of the house. We will probably plant another rose bush in close proximity in his honor. So here's to Max, a great dog and a patient listener. I know that God will take care of him and I know he will be waiting with a wagging tail for his human mom to join him when her time has come.
The Lord really knew what he was doing when he created dogs. They are a special gift from a loving and caring Father. God bless you, Max and I hope you find a special bone in your new special place.