Oct 31, 2003: 10 AM. Arlene, Cindy (a house guest), and I were at the veterinarian's office with Margie. Margie knew. She suddenly became very excited, and panted rapidly. She wanted to be touched and petted. I had told her "I love you" about three hundred times that day so far. She knew. We got called into the treatment room, and waited there for about ten minutes. I constantly petted Margie and carressed her face, and continued to tell her that I loved her. Her eyes were bright and excited, in sharp contrast to most of the previous few months. The veterinarian and an assistant came into the treatment room. The assistant put her arms under Margie's body, like a forklift, and lifted her up on the table. Margie knew.

The veterinarian prepared the injection, and while the assistant kept hold of Margie, I put my hands on her (Margie's) head and neck. She looked into me with those bright eyes. The vetrinarian swabbed a disinfectant on Margie's right front foreleg, and effortlessly inserted the needle. 10:20 AM. He began to inject the solution, and I watched Margie. When about half the solution had been injected, Margie's smile relaxed, her eyes closed about halfway, and she slumped. I bowed my head close to Margie, and wept openly as her spirit slipped away. The assistant held Margie until the solution was all inside, and then she laid our precious dog on her side.

"Is she still alive?" I asked.

"No," the veterinarian gently whispered.

The vet and his assistant left the room. Arlene gently closed Margie's eyes and said, "No more pain for her." We cried.

March, 1990:

Las Cruces, NM - we were heading into town. It was a weekend, maybe even Sunday. Arlene said she wanted to stop at the animal shelter to look at the dogs there. "Don't worry, we won't get one," she reassured.

There was one tiny, cute, black dog in one of the larger enclosures at the pound. There was shredded paper at the bottom of the enclosure. Arlene asked one of the attendants there if we could take that dog outside to see how she acted. The attendant picked up the dog and we followed outside to a fenced area. The little black dog walked around a bit, squatted, and walked around some more. The people at the pound thought that the dog was a spaniel mix around 6 weeks old, and said that she had been abandoned in a city park and brought there afterward.

We couldn't leave her there. She looked so needy. On our way home I held her in my hands - she was that tiny. Her little eyes looked out at us and regarded the scene in general.

We had decided that she'd be an outside dog, so we cut out a large cardboard box and placed some bed sheets in it for padding. The "walls" were about six inches high, and it was open on top. Around 2 AM that night, our new dog was whimpering - she was hungry for her "2 AM feeding".

We discovered that our new puppy could not eat solid dog food, so Arlene, every morning for a while, fixed some scrambled egg and put a little ground beef in with it. This food nursed our new dog to a better state of health.

Her strong will became apparent very soon. She did not like the bed sheet padding in her "house" - so she dragged the sheet out from her house onto the patio. Arlene would neatly place the sheet back inside the box, and within a few hours Margie would pull them out again. After a few days Arlene gave up with the sheet, and Margie began to use it for fun. She'd drag it through the yard, getting it wrapped up around her on occasion.

A couple months later we went to a hardware store and had a doghouse built for Margie.

Margie's house training was progressing slowly until one Saturday afternoon when we had invited some friends for dinner. Their two kids had great fun with Margie and every time she slowed down, even a little bit, they carted her outside to go potty. By the time the afternoon was over, Margie was all but trained, all in one day.

When Margie was about six months old, we took her to the local veterinarian to have her spayed, as we agreed to when adopting her. The people at the pound had complained to the vet that he had not done it yet, since they thought Margie was a few weeks older than she actually was; the vet told them that in his judgement the dog was too young, and that's the way it will be.

I picked up Margie that afternoon, and asked if there were any food restrictions for her. Interestingly, the answer was - none - she can eat anything, anytime. Apparently the vet there had performed some kind of surgery that was unlike the standard fare, and the stitches were biodregradable and would not need to be removed. Margie was so unfazed by the surgery that soon after I brought her home, she leapt off a couple of steps, as she had come to enjoy, and then whimpered when she felt the effects of that. She was more careful for a few days.

She was a bird watcher, and there was no shortage of birds along the wires between the telephone poles in our back yard. She'd sit, staring at them, and when they flew, she's run along the yard chasing them. She clearly enjoyed the chase. It got to the point where she would take a running start and then a flying leap off the edge of the patio where we had a rock wall, to the yard proper which was about three to four feet below.

We spent our Thanksgiving holiday her first year with Dave's parents in Albuquerque. Since Margie slept in her "Margie house" every night, we decided to haul her dog house in the back of the station wagon so she would feel at home. That first night we had just all settled in bed when Dave's mom called out, "Uh, folks, your dog is howling." (We had put the dog house out back right under their bedroom window.) The solution was to bring Margie into the bedroom where we were and she slept on the bed between us all night long, with a big smile on her face, no doubt.

Margie's disposition was that of a happy dog, and I started to refer to her as "smiling dog".

We had a cat, Fifi, for a few years before we got Margie, and Margie spent a fair amount of time around Fifi. I tell people that Margie was "raised by a cat" since she did not bark much during her early years.

There was one instance that did show Fifi's influence, and that was one day that Arlene and I were out on the back patio. Margie was around us, and then, in one graceful motion, she hopped up on an external window sill, exactly as a cat would. The sill was rather narrow, and Margie walked its length with aplomb and ease.

We enrolled Margie in obedience training, and she was doing well until she got ill one day and could not attend class. She had eaten part of a mouse (more cat training?) And had an upset stomach for a few days. The next week, Arlene wasn't feeling well and didn't go, so Margie never finished the course.

Margie's first snowfall in Las Cruces was significant for that area -- a few inches, possible six or so. She absolutely loved the snow -- she repeatedly ran the length of the back yard, back and forth, using her nose as a snow plow.

The cat we credited with raising Margie, and another cat we had (named Barfie), left us - literally, though not at the same time. One day they went out, and never came back. Some time after that, we went to the pound and got another cat about 6 months old, and brought her home. She was eating when Margie came up to her, tail wagging. The new cat, Pussywillow, swiped Margie with her paw and got her very angry. Margie, growling and barking, chased the new cat around the house. They both zipped by us, and as Margie ran by me, I grabbed her and calmed her down. They did not get along well, although it appeared that eventually each one of them admired the strengths and the traits in the other one. It appears that Margie held a grudge for a LONG time. Margie protected Pussywillow from several real and percieved dangers.

Margie loved it when Arlene worked in the yard, especially when she was planting in the flower beds or pulling weeds. She'd come along behind and do her own digging in the same places. Later, Margie would go where new plants, like bare-root roses were planted, and yank them out and leave them out on the grass for Arlene to find after work. She really liked the time we planted a vegetable garden. She ate the bean plants before we even had any blossoms on them. One day when we came home we found a very strange object on the patio. It was almost round, about the size of a cantaloupe but all black and gnarly. It was a half-grown watermelon that Margie had found, yanked off the vine, and dragged over onto the patio and chewed and gnawed at it to make it look all rough and black. Arlene scolded Margie and later felt bad, and I felt bad for both of them.

Dave's sister, brother-in-law, and niece visited for a few days from out of town. Dave's niece, Nikki, liked Margie a lot, and about a week after they returned home, there was a letter in our mailbox addressed to "Margie Merie" at our address. It was a letter from Nikki.

Las Cruces, Jamuary, 1996: We took Margie for a walk early one Sunday afternoon. We were walking with her toward a cul-de-sac on a side street next to our house. We were destined for a path through some desert land adjoining the neighborhood. There was a woman playing ball with her large dog at the end of the cul-de-sac. The dog, a 130-pound rottweiler/shepherd mix, spotted us and started making his way toward us. I had a feeling that we did not want that dog near us, so I put myself in the way between Arlene (with Margie) and the oncoming dog. The dog paused for a moment, then quickly went around me and attacked Margie. He picked her up in his jaws and shook her back and forth like a rag doll. Arlene screamed, and Margie was screaming too. I kicked the dog as hard as I could, and almost broke my foot doing that. He dropped Margie, and then picked her up again, shook her a few times, and then contentedly walked back to where he'd come from.. We both felt helpless against this huge bully of a dog.

Neighbors came running outside and told us that they had seen that dog attack other dogs in the neighborhood. Arlene stayed out there while I rushed Margie home to get her away from the scene, and gave her a homeopathic remedy. I called the emergency number for the vet in Las Cruces and waited for a return call. We took Margie over that afternoon and the vet determined that there was considerable damage and that Margie would need surgery the next day. The layers of skin had separted from the muscle tissue and that needed to be cleaned out. He gave her an antibiotic injection. Margie was definitely in pain throughout the day and during the night.

She had surgery the next day and the result was not pretty. The vet had to cut away the layer of fatty tissue between skin and muscle that was damaged and likely to become infected, and insert drainage tubes inside Margie to keep the healing process going. She had been shaved almost from head to toe in the process. The vet, however, had been very pleased to find that there was no infection at the time, and attibuted that fact to the homeopathic remedy that I had given her.

We kept her housed in the master bathroom for a couple weeks while she recuperated and to keep a close eye on her to make sure the drainage tubes stayed in place. We escorted her outside a few times a day to the back yard for her to do her business and get some fresh air. When the vet removed her drainage tubes, we let Margie have access to the rest of the house.

Arlene had taken a class in Reiki, and when I suggested that she perform reiki on Margie, she wondered about placing her hands in contact with Margie's wounded area, thinking that might be painful. I suggested to Arlene that she position her hands a little above the wounded area, not in direct contact. She tried that, and definitely felt the energy flow. Margie was happy with that method, too, and always became immediately relaxed when Arlene performed reiki on her.

June 1996: I got a job in Austin Texas and moved there while Arlene stayed in Las Cruces to continue working and take care of matters while trying to sell our house there. Margie stayed with her in that interim, and at the end of August, 1996, Arlene, Margie, and Pussywillow moved to Austin.

Once she arrived, Margie's mood changed dramatically. She became listless and depressed, and was very "down" emotionally. After all, she'd left the place where she grew up. When it was apparent that her depression was not a passing thing, we became concerned and sought care for here with a homeopathic veterinarian. It took about five months to "get our dog back", as I phrased it.

April, 1997: My aunt Beatriz had been seriously ill and had a recurrence of cancer. She had always liked me a lot and called me her favorite nephew. She was in a hospice after staying with my mom. Arlene went to Albuquerque to help out and offer my mom encouragement. We knew Beatriz was dying, and I made arrangements with a colleague to house sit when I would need to travel for her funeral.

On the evening of April 15, as I got ready to go to bed, I noticed something very unusual. Margie and Pussywillow,who normally barely tolerated each other, were both on my bed. They were both lying down, facing each other, their front paws almost touching, and both looking happy. I had never seen anything like that before. It was so unusual that I got my camera and photographed them.

A little while later I got a call from Arlene that my aunt had died. I am convinced without a doubt that the unusual sight of Margie and Pussywillow in such close proximity and happy, was my aunt's way of making contact with me after her spirit left her pain-wracked body.

May 27, 1997: Midafternoon. Storm clouds filled the sky; then the sky turned yellow toward the northwest. Sometime between 3 and 4 PM the power went out.. Margie ran up the stairs to my bedroom, jumped up on the bed, looked out the west-facing window, and barked loudly at the yellow sky for several minutes. Up until then she had never gone upstairs by herself. A torrential rain fell later. That day made history. A tornado swept through the town of Jarrell, less than 30 miles north of us, and completely wiped out a swath of houses in a subdivision of that town. An internet search with the keywords "jarrell tornado" produces some interesting photos.

Arlene's mom came to visit us for a week and the day before she was to return home to Florida she became weepy. She said she was lonesome for home, even though there was no one there waiting for her. Margie must have sensed her sadness and came over and rested her chin on Ethel's lap and looked up at her with her beautiful brown eyes, as if to say , "Don't feel sad, you'll be home soon." Ethel really appreciated Margie's affection when she needed it, even though she had never claimed to like dogs very much.

July 2001: We wanted to get away from the fireworks on the Fourth of July, since for miles around where we lived, the noise typically went on until 4 AM. We made reservations at a Holiday Inn in Austin for the night of the 4'th, and specified that we'd have our dog with us. The inn was a multi-story building, and I registered and got our room key for a place on the third floor. We had Margie on a leash, and walked her to the elevator. Keep in mind that this was going to be her very first time in an elevator. As we waited for the doors to open, I wondered if Margie would be freaked out by the small space and the sensations going up. We got a surprise. The elevator doors opened, and Margie walked right in, went to the back, turned around, and sat. When we reached our floor, she walked out of the elevator - as if she'd been doing this all her life! And that was her very first time. A little while later we took her outside, and when we got back to our floor, we were unsure which direction to head down the hall. But Margie knew, and made the correct turn. We took her outside a few times, and she appeared to like the elevator rides.

Late summer / early fall, 2002: We groomed Margie once or twice a week. Her hair was fine and tended to get tangled and matted, and we frequently had to take the scissors to clumps of tangled hair. We were both involved in brushing her one afternoon, and Arlene came across what we thought was a small persistent clump of very tangled hair on Margie's right rear leg, below her knee joint. Arlene asked me to bring the scissors, and I did. She held the persistent portion of hair and I cut it with the scissors, and then we got a big surprise. Instead of now-smoother hair that we could continue to brush, we saw tendon and bone through an opening about a half inch around. The amazing thing is that Margie apparently was not in any pain from this. She was totally relaxed, and just lay there, expecting us to continue.

That was when Arlene discovered that what we thought was tangled hair, was actually a thorn or something like it, which had penetrated Margie's leg far into the muscle. We saw that the location was probably infected, and Arlene lightly pulled on the thorn, and pulled and pulled, until the whole thing -- about 3/4 inch long, came out. I prepared a calendula wash and we rinsed the wound and bandaged it. Then I gave her a homeopathic remedy (hypericum).

Margie was good to go, and happily accompanied us on a walk about a half hour later.

June 5, 2003: We were getting ready to move in to a different house, and there was considerable work that needed to be done. We had brought Margie to the empty house the previous day, and she enjoyed being there, which was a relief. We were concerned about how she'd react to another move. The photo at the introduction of this story was taken that previous day. On June 5, however, I was at work and Arlene called me and said that Margie had shown no appetite and had thrown up, and there was blood in the mix. She was taking Margie in to the vet that morning. The news later that day was not good. Blood tests revealed that Margie had liver problems and a weak heart. She got her prescription and some nutritional supplements and made plans to return in a few weeks.

Margie did not like to take pills. One supplement in particular, SAM-e, was especially troublesome for us to give her -- she would convince us that she had completely swallowed it, and then a half minute later, eject it onto the floor with a "So there! I bet you wondered how I did that" expression of accomplishment on her face. Her antics were at the same time frustrating and hunorous for us.

Three weeks or so later Margie got x-rays that revealed two tumors in her lungs. Surgery was out of the question because of her weak heart. All that we could do was to give her nutritional support and remedies for the time being. As the weeks went by, Margie became less energetic and spent a lot of time resting. She had lost quite a lot of weight, but as her tumors got larger, her sides bulged. She was still reasonably happy, and I'm sure she knew that her life on this plane of existence would be over soon. I spent a lot of time just being with her and trying to keep her as comfortable as possible.

A few weeks later the x-rays confirmed that Margie was terminal. The tumors were further enlarged. Beginning sometime in October, she had trouble retaining urine and frequently wet herself at night. We had her sleep on something that we could wash every day. We knew that we had to make a decision soon.

October 28, 2003: While Margie spent most of her time resting, there were a few remarkable moments during her last week with us. On the afternoon of Tuesday the 28'th we had her outside, and she caught sight of a squirrel in the back yard about 50 feet away. She got a running start and leapt off the patio and ran after the squirrel while we stared in amazement. She didn't catch the squirrel, of course. She chased it up a tree, and came back to us with bright eyes and a smile. I suspected, and later knew, that this was Margie's way of getting a last taste of life.

The next morning, Arlene came up to me, weeping, and said that Margie was so weak that she could hardly make the step from the back yard up to the patio and into the house. "Let's call the vet and take her in today," she said. I suggested that she go ahead and call, but make the appointment a couple of days away, and she did that.

That afternoon Margie seemed stronger, and we took her over to the large municipal park by our house for a walk. She did well, and as we sat pensively on a bench overlooking an area of Slaughter Creek that was more like a lake, Margie appeared happier than we felt.

During that night, we heard Margie let out a loud, long moan. That told us that our decision and timing was right. The next day, Arlene asked if we should take Margie for another walk, and I said, "No, she did well yesterday; let's let that one be the one that we remember."

The next morning, October 31, we prepared to take Margie to her final appointment. She was lively, as noted in the opening paragraphs of this tribute.

After the appointment we buried her on a parcel of land that we intend to build on in a couple years, 55 miles from our current home.