Meg
Meg
April 21, 2007
Our beloved Meg passed away suddenly on Friday, April 20, 2007.
Meg, formally “Jayne” GRR #04-036, was a red, deep-chested, golden who was also
known by her forever-family as Meggie Moo Moo, Meggie THE Moo Moo, Megs-A-lot,
Moo, Moo-me, Moo-me-Mo and Big Puppy.
Meg came into my life in May of 2004. As a rookie volunteer for Gold Ribbon, Meg
was the first dog I ever transported. I loved her immediately. I’ll never forget
that teary-eyed moment when the Town Lake attendant led this smiling, waddling
golden towards us. She was so happy to be liberated, so excited to meet her
liberators, so grateful for that liver snap treat and so ready to leave with us.
She eagerly hopped in the back of the van and right straight into my heart.
Within a few weeks we officially adopted and brought her home for keeps,
forever.
Meg came into our family with a refined set of manners and talents. She laid
down when you asked her to sit, but she was housetrained, didn’t counter-surf
and she seemed to understand that you don’t get in the garden beds. She never
contemplated jumping on the sofa or the bed and had no interest in begging for
human food. She showed us right away that she was an excellent ball player and
retrieving was her first love. She was so well-mannered and talented; she never
needed a reprimand.
At the time of her adoption, Meg had heartworms; tests indicated a high and then
later, a low positive. It was agreed to treat her with HeartGuard. We monitored
her activities; she got lots of rest and tummy-rubs and no exhaustive ball
playing. It worked, after 4-5 months she tested negative and continued her
monthly preventative and continued testing negative.
During this recovery time, which also included an orientation to her family,
Meg’s expression seemed so sad; she followed me closely, and only went outside
when I accompanied her. This sadness seemed to disappear the day a friend, who
plays tennis, gave Meg a huge box full of tennis balls. Meg’s eyes lit up and
from then on, she perked up. Meg was always much happier when she had a tennis
ball(s) handy. Later we installed a screen door that Meg could push open
herself. Slowly, as Meg regained her health, she made herself at home, on the
bed, on the sofa, in my chair and frequently on my lap. We loved having a dog!
Meg came with a history and propensity to chase cats but she immediately had a
deep respect for her new room mates, two, twenty-something year old and frail
cats, Mr. Panda and Ms Mittens; but Meg should ultimately be remembered as the
bird-dog who had a bird, or rather a parrot, as a best buddy. Or maybe it was
the other way around, my parrot, Jay, an African Grey, had a bird-dog for a best
buddy. Either way, parrot and golden got on well from the start. It was not
unusual for me to have two senile cats, an eighty-pound Meg and a foot-long
parrot all hunkered down on my bed, each waiting for their round of pets,
tummy-rubs, and head scratches.
Jay, the parrot, wasn’t a bit intimidated by Meg’s size (this is where the term
“bird-brain” comes to mind). Jay showed Meg right away that she had a beak and
it could (1) bite and, or (2) deliver tasty morsels. Meg was so intelligent, she
knew Jay was a part of the family and a fragile pet, and subsequently, Meg was
never bitten. Meg had manners, she wasn’t a beggar and she ate her kibble
straight; however, Jay thought Meg needed more fruits and vegetables in her
diet; so at feeding time, Jay took bites and dropped them down onto unsuspecting
Meg. Soon Jay was feeding Meg baked sweet potato, grapes, corn on the cob,
mango, peanuts, and green beans. Though they never quite went beak to mouth they
came mighty close! Meg would sit patiently, watching the bird, on alert to catch
those tasty air born morsels.
For the past two winters, I’ve allowed Jay’s wings to grow out, enabling full
flight. Jay is a real klutz when it comes to smooth landings. She needs lots of
space to skid to a stop or, something big and soft and red that will cushion
your fall. These rare landings on Meg were not planned; they were last ditch
efforts when the alternative was crashing into the grand piano or a wall. Jay
has more than once landed in Meg’s food bowl while she was eating. Meg,
unharmed, seemed to take this all in stride and happy to oblige her goofy little
winged friend.
We soon found that Meg didn’t care much for other dogs, we sought advice, tried
various training, but finally accepted the fact that her house was her house and
if another dog came to visit we kept them separate and didn’t force the issue.
The most important thing to me was that Meg got on well with human beings and
her extended animal family at home (Mr. Panda, Ms Mittens, and Jay-bird). Meg
greeted everyone calmly, not timidly or aggressively, she would wag that tail
hers so widely that she appeared to waddle when she walked.
Meg became an ardent and watchful guard dog. Last winter, an intruder
unexpectedly entered our backyard; this shocked me so much that I shrieked. Meg
recognized my fear; she charged the intruder and kept him at bay with loud
warning barks. When the intruder announced “Meter reader,” I relaxed and so did
Meg. After a round of apologies and a laugh (at least I was laughing) Meg
accompanied the meter reader around the yard, with a relaxed, wagging tail.
I was always amazed at her intelligence, how quickly she learned, and how
willing she was to comply with a request... especially if it was associated with
a ball. Meg was an accomplished ball player, quick and agile, she’d catch ‘em
every time; and when she caught them, it sounded like a ball hitting a catcher’s
mitt. As soon as you could throw it, she’d be back with that same slimy ball.
This soon wore me out, and one day, by luck or accident, Meg performed a little
trick that we reinforced called a “turn around.” When she really became obsessed
with the ball, she would add, at my command and at her choice, an eloquently
executed complete circle (giving me at least a 30 second break). This trick
expanded to a “come back” where she would walk away and freeze for about a
minute (ball in mouth) and then, turn excitedly, and come back for another
throw. Later, she learned “this is the last one” and gave me an even longer
break between the ball games.
Meg would do remarkable things. When I got a new programmable coffee pot, I set
it to begin perking automatically before my alarm clock went off. On the first
morning it began perking, Meg took it upon her self to alert me that something
was happening in the kitchen! Wake up! she says bouncing on my bed. Get up! She
did this for a couple of weeks in a row until the perking became a routine
event.
Meg was always willing to help you out too, if I didn’t know where the old cats
were, I could ask Meg and she’d sniff out who ever I wanted (Panda or Mittens)
and take me to their hiding place. The cats have since passed away, but Meg
continued to amaze me with her cooperation. Whenever I needed her to go out
before bed time and come back in quickly, I’d tell her “Go Pee.” On this
command, she’d waste no time sniffing around; she’d squat, pee and be at the
door in record time. This was very convenient on cold or rainy nights, and
whenever it was wet and muddy outside, Meg would (upon request and later by
habit) stop just inside the door, and left up one paw after another to be wiped
off with a towel.
Meg quickly learned the difference between the commands of sit and lay down and
performed them perfectly. Later, she learned to sit when we folded our arms and
issued no verbal command. She also tried her hardest to follow the command
“stay,” but she just couldn’t sit still long enough, most of the time she’d be
up and following a millisecond before as you’d turn and say “come.” We credited
her as reading our minds; she just didn’t need to be told to “come.”
I tried to teach Meg how to sit up from a sit-down position, she tried and tried
but she was just too long-in-the-back and often fell over awkwardly. I thought
it might hurt her back so I stopped the training. But Meg continued to try to
please me by greeting me with an awkward, topsy-turvy, sit up from a sit-down
position. You couldn’t ask for a better companion and she would let you know how
she felt. When I‘d leave in the morning for work, she would jump on the sofa,
lay her head on the pillow, make eye-contact and heave a loud sigh. When I came
home from work, Meg was always there at the door to greet me, her tail wagging,
her body waddling.
On Thursday evening, April 19th, Jay was feeding and Meg was grazing around the
cage for the grapes Jay had dropped for her. Suddenly, Meg turned, gazed up at
me and jumped in my lap for a hug. Despite her size, she thought she was pup.
The next morning, April 20th, Meg jumped on my bed and lay across my lap for
what would be her last tummy rub.
Our final morning together was routine was uneventful. Dog and bird ate their
breakfast. Meg went outside to bark at some joggers passing by (on the other
side of the fence) and as usual, Jay whistled and hollered “Meg, shhhh, come
here.” When Meg came in the house, she looked a bit haggard but it was 10:30 am,
and Meg knew I was leaving for work. I put Jay in the cage, said good bye, and
Meg retreated to lie down on the cool tile in the bathroom, this was one of her
regular snoozing spots. I left.
My son found her in the bathroom, she was lying on her side, she appeared to be
sleeping; she was still and lifeless.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Meg left us too soon, too quickly, too unexpectedly; she left without warning;
she left without leaving any indication or signs of illness. Did she suffer? Was
she in pain? Did I miss something? Her vet checks have always been well checks,
I figured she had good prospects for a longer life. She was only seven years
old. I had to know why.
Two vets at Westgate Pet and Bird poured over her body and found the cause of
her untimely death. Both vets agreed that she died quickly, and this sudden
event couldn’t have caused long-suffering. Nor could this have been detected,
prevented or even predicted. They found that Meg’s right atrium, the pericardial
sack was full of blood; all the signs pointed to a massive heart attack.
I’ve spent this morning and most of last night writing this memorial, weeping,
sobbing and yearning to give my Meggie Moo big hugs and tend to her needs. The
house is strangely quiet. Jay is munching corn-on-the-cob, silently. There’s a
tennis ball tucked in the cushions of the sofa, another one lays idle under the
coffee table.
I’ve found some solace in clicking through the Gold Ribbon Rescue web site
looking at those Golden adoptables, so deserving of a good home. I found “Jayne”
on the 2004 Adopted page and remember well the day we got our very first Golden
Retriever. Thank you GRR for rescuing such a wonderful, loving golden and
bringing her into our lives, even if it was only for a short time... Meg will
remain in our hearts forever.
Marilyn Burke and family