A month or so ago I made that mistake and now he’s gone. “Someplace” wasn’t a physical place; it was just a state of being. Max was an old-school Golden Retriever that created paradise for me during his 10+ years of life.
On one beautifully uneventful day in October, while walking through the woods, I watched him labor along with his forced gait, his arthritis very obvious now, but his zeal for investigating new smells in the wild still puppy-like. As we walked along, I found myself thanking God for giving us the opportunity to be together and acknowledged that I was living in a little corner of Paradise.
Max was the second Golden I had had the pleasure of sharing time with, and although they couldn’t be more different in skills, they both created the most simple, perfectly peaceful times in my life. Aside from the beach, for me there is nothing more serene than walking through the woods, with a Golden Retriever who is just happy to be alive and to have a companion. Nothing. Paradise on Earth.
It was mere weeks after that realization that we had to kiss him good-bye. He was possibly the most loved canine to have ever lived. We are heartbroken. Max, I’m sorry I called it paradise, but it really was, thanks to you.
