I was just a senior in college and she was the first pet I ever had. She was difficult to train, mostly in part, because I did not have a clue on how to do it. In time, however, she figured it out (as did I), but also learned the art of “spite” and it became a part of her personality to this very present day.
She preferred Nonna’s chicken soup to kibble and sleeping in a bed instead of her pillow. Her big brown eyes and floppy big ears grabbed your heart the minute you met her and her howl pierced right through you until you shared your meal with her.
For all intents and purpose, she is our first child. My Hubby (then boyfriend) gifted her the Christmas of my senior year. I named her Gwenevere and was immediately vetoed. She was and still is Maggie Magoots.
Maggie is now 15 and fighting to live another day. In human terms, it’s as if she suffered a stroke. She no longer barks or howls or follows us to the fridge. But she looks at us with her big brown eyes and……
I don’t want to decide. Twice since her “stroke” last week, we were sure it was her end – only to prove us wrong. Last night, she walked around the house and bonded with us. She ate and drank more than she has in over a week. While her bark is gone, her spunk and fight is shining through in those big brown eyes.
I know her time is near but she has not giving up just yet and neither will we.