Happy Birthday Melky
Back in 1996, I visited the SPCA thinking that I could browse the dog cages and walk away without bringing home a dog. I was called to the last cage, by an attendant, who told me of Max, a Golden Retriever-Golden Lab Mix who was about to be gassed. "That's the best dog in the place," the attendant whispered. "We took him from a home where he was being abused. If you can look, there are cigarette burns on his groin."
Max was as good as in the car. Some eleven years later, unable to walk, Max -the best sixty dollars I ever spent-was ready for doggy heaven. Yet I had to drive him to the vets and put him down. To say that was a sad day would be a huge understatement. I will never forget those last few moments and the complete and utter sadness that shook me to the core. I questioned everything about life and death, and my biggest problem was in explaining it to the kids.
My wife was dead-set against another dog. We still had, Shadow, our black Lab, and Kathy figured that was enough.
The next day, I was at the computer. Telling the children had been difficult, but I explained that Max was happy again, able to run, and eating from a big bowl of bones that God set out for him. My youngest boy, Sam, nodded along. Moments later, his eyes filled with those big tears. "Do you have a picture of Max?" he asked.
I put Max up on the computer, and Sam just kept crying. I didn't know what to say, and my wife walked by and looked in on the scene. "Let's go get another dog," she said. "I don't ever want the kids to be sad."
Well, someday, our children will be sad - life's like that - and when that day comes, perhaps they will be equipped to handle it- but until then - we have Melky (named after Yankee outfielder Melky Cabrera) and Melky is now chewing on a baseball-shaped rawhide that my wife presented. We all sang Happy Birthday and she ate a huge bowl of doggy popcorn. My boys were all smiling, and deep down, I imagined that Max was running to and fro, eating from the endless bowl of bones, and happy for the family who rescued him and for Melky, the replacement center-fielder.
Max was as good as in the car. Some eleven years later, unable to walk, Max -the best sixty dollars I ever spent-was ready for doggy heaven. Yet I had to drive him to the vets and put him down. To say that was a sad day would be a huge understatement. I will never forget those last few moments and the complete and utter sadness that shook me to the core. I questioned everything about life and death, and my biggest problem was in explaining it to the kids.
My wife was dead-set against another dog. We still had, Shadow, our black Lab, and Kathy figured that was enough.
The next day, I was at the computer. Telling the children had been difficult, but I explained that Max was happy again, able to run, and eating from a big bowl of bones that God set out for him. My youngest boy, Sam, nodded along. Moments later, his eyes filled with those big tears. "Do you have a picture of Max?" he asked.
I put Max up on the computer, and Sam just kept crying. I didn't know what to say, and my wife walked by and looked in on the scene. "Let's go get another dog," she said. "I don't ever want the kids to be sad."
Well, someday, our children will be sad - life's like that - and when that day comes, perhaps they will be equipped to handle it- but until then - we have Melky (named after Yankee outfielder Melky Cabrera) and Melky is now chewing on a baseball-shaped rawhide that my wife presented. We all sang Happy Birthday and she ate a huge bowl of doggy popcorn. My boys were all smiling, and deep down, I imagined that Max was running to and fro, eating from the endless bowl of bones, and happy for the family who rescued him and for Melky, the replacement center-fielder.
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