Celebrating Millie

One of my co-workers during the summer of 1996 had some friends who found a dog wandering in their Knightdale neighborhood and weren't able to find the owners. They loved the dog, who they nicknamed Heidi, but had recently become empty nesters and didn't want to cramp their new freedom. I had just moved into a house with a back yard for my senior year in college and thought a dog would be perfect. I picked her up after work one day, quickly renamed her Millie (after President G. H. W. Bush's dog).

Millie was a ton of fun from the beginning. The second or third day at the house she discovered a Busch Beer clock on the wall. The clock had a barely perceptible second hand that made a quiet "tick" every time it moved. When she first saw it, she launched up a chair and pointed at the clock for a good two hours. Over the course of that year, she spent hours and hours each week pointing at the second hand hoping I would kill it.

She made a lot of friends that summer (and helped me make some too - dogs are great that way!). Good ole Kyle Catherwood was her favorite, but John Roberts and Jeff Laoang were high on her list too. There were a couple of cruel roommates that were not high on her list though, especially after the laundry basket incident. Millie was clear that all is forgiven, but that explains the lack of pictures with some people.

There has been a lot of speculation about whether she ever had puppies before we met her and I just don't know. Whatever her familial status prior to her entrance into my life, it became unpleasantly clear after just a couple of months that all of her pipes were still in working order. This picture is of her wearing some of Kyle's underwear until I could get to the store and buy some "bitches britches."

Of course Millie loved to go for walks, and she particularly loved hiking trips. We went to Mt. Mitchell quite a bit for the first few years after college, and also a few other spots. She even had fun on the blizzard hike in Pisgah - the snow was over her head most of the trip.

I don't have a photo for obvious reasons, but a story that illustrates Millie's irrational love for me involves her slingshotting out of my car window. It was 1999 (I think), and I was living at 3400 Selwyn. I was heading towards town on Selwyn for some reason, and Millie was riding shotgun with her head sticking out the window. We rounded that curve just past Selwyn Pub at about 40 miles an hour. I didn't pay enough attention to how far the window was rolled down and how strong the centrifugal forces were as we hit the sharpest part of the turn, and whoosh like a rocket Millie went flying. She landed nose first in someones yard. I quickly pulled over and ran to her - though dazed, she didn't seem hurt and just looked at me with that "what the hell just happened" look that struck me with a wash of both guilt and affection. Not surprisingly, she never ever stuck her head out of the window of a moving car again.

There is a big hole in the picture history with Millie from 1999 to 2002 when I was working in politics. In retrospect, this was a terrible time for Millie I'm sure, though I wasn't paying attention at the time. I was rarely home, and at one point was more or less working in another city and would be home briefly each day to let Millie out to go to the bathroom. In 2001 and 2002, she went to live with the Bondurants while I worked in Salisbury. One of the stories of highest praise I have about Millie is one of the most damning of myself. In 2001 I was working on a campaign that had me doing some intensive work for about 48 hours at one point. I didn't come home from the office to let Millie out to walk, or change her water, or change out her food, or say "hello" that entire 48 hours. When I did get home, she was so excited to see me, didn't hold a grudge, and hadn't peed on the carpet. Oh that I could be half as good at being a man that she was at being a dog.

The good news is that we had a lot of fun a lot of the time. The most fun we had together was often hiking in the North Carolina Mountains. Millie would run ahead on a trail until she was almost out of site, then run back to make sure I was following her, then run out of sight again. For every mile I hiked, she hiked two. I learned early in our hiking career to have her wear a small cowbell. Though I'm sure she always intended to come back to me, there were many times on the trail when she was gone for 30-90 minutes at a time. Most likely always relatively close by, but not always within sight. The bell helped me keep track of her and stay confident that she wasn't lost somewhere in the wilderness. She was usually a hit with the friends I hiked with, though some of the fondest memories are from camping at Mount Rogers in Virginia with John and Sellie where Millie wasn't afraid to eat some pony poo.

Meeting Emily was a tough experience for Millie. Millie made it clear at first that she was the woman of the house and didn't appreciate any additional company. The two girls were fast friends by the end of 2003, however, and by the time Emily and I were married were at least as close as Millie and I had ever been. One of our most fond memories was hiking with Millie in Linville Gorge where she wouldn't leave Emily's side the entire trip.

The thought of the possible tension between Vivy and Millie was a point of concern before Vivian was born, though it turns out to have been completely unnecessary. From the day we brought Vivy home from the hospital, Millie was the perfect loving-guard dog and didn't like to leave Vivy's side. One of the sweetest parts of Millie's decline was that Vivian woke up to the world and even started showing affection for Millie in the last month or so. I think the fact that Vivy got to meet Millie, and appreciate her in a small way, added some salve to the imminence of the loss.

The last six weeks were rough for Millie. She had some nerve problems that affected her back legs since 2004, but more recently also developed kidney failure and some kind of malignant cancer (the vet said the kidney problem was plenty of problem enough and not to worry about the cancer). Things hit a low point about three weeks ago, and we actually took Millie to the vet at that time to be euthanized. While in the office, literally moments from the injection, I learned that one of the doctors was available that day to do the procedure as a house call, so I took Millie home for a last meal and what I hoped would be a more comfortable goodbye. In preparation at home, I loaded her up with drugs (thank the Lord for Deramaxx and Tramadol) and to my delight she perked up! In fact, she was mobile and relatively happy for another two weeks. She couldn't really take a walk for fun, but she wagged her tail, could give and receive affection, and enjoyed eating. It was a real gift to have that extra time to give her extra kisses and hugs. It was particularly sweet to have the space to remember and cherish hanging out, knowing it wouldn't last forever.

Last Wednesday was the last time Millie wagged her tail, and Thursday was the last time she ate any of her food. Though it was clear at that time that we were running out of tomorrows, it wasn't clear, whether because of true ignorance or irrational hope, that the end was just days away. While we were in Chapel Hill, we had confirmation from the Metzls and from Elizabeth that Millie was in a bad way, and coming home with fresh eyes helped us see that she was living an irrevocably miserable life. I set the appointment with Dr. Doyle and we spent the last twenty-four hours celebrating with Millie. She was able to eat a few pieces of the popcorn, chicken, cheese, and peanut butter dinner we made for her which probably made us happier than it made her. The best part was that as we loved on her this morning, she relaxed in a way that was so clearly indicating that she loved us and trusted us while at the same time asking us to help her die. It was as sweet as such a powerfully sorrowful moment could be.

I snapped this picture before Vivy went down for her nap and we said our last goodbyes to Millie. I had to prop her up to get the picture, but it captures the infinite patience, and loyalty, and love that made her what she was to me.

The procedure at Animal Medical Hospital was really sweet. The admin staff was very accommodating, and helped me arrange for all the logistics and payments in advance and in a private room where I could boo-hoo to my hearts content. Dr. Doyle was so kind, and he truly seemed heart broken about her. The sadness and tears of other people, starting with Dr. Doyle and continuing with everyone we have seen, talked with, and emailed have been a real comfort today.

We have loved you Millie, and we are so glad to have had the time we had with you. An extravagantly loving God blessed us with you, and we can cherish the hope that he will lavish us with your company again.