Missing Millie

It’s hard not to smile at a Golden Retriever.

Whether they’re out on a walk, chasing a tennis ball in the park, maniacally plunging into a pool or even just lying around, joy is written all over their faces and sheer bliss radiates from their furry coats.

I’m clearly a dog-lover, from a dog-loving family, but I think there’s something special about the spirit of a Golden that would warm up anyone’s heart.

And if you were lucky enough to have grown up with a Golden, like I was, you know their goofy grins and joyous antics aren’t just for show. They’re a lifestyle; a window to the dog’s soul – a soul soaked in pervasive, absolute happiness.

We got Millie – aka Moofers, Moofie-face, Monfoursfours, Meebye, Mermies, Marmenkoogle, among others – as a puppy when I was in high school. She was the younger sister (not in the literal sense) of Rusty, a long-haired Dachshund with a Napoleon complex, and Ginger, a submissive Golden-Lab mutt.

Quickly, Millie developed into the role of unadulterated good-time doggy, with a fanatical hunger for swimming, fetching tennis balls, taking walks and chasing her tail in circles.

She’d dive in the pool, fetch and swim for hours. When it was time to go inside, she’d jump in again and then stand by the door soaked begging for more play time.

Millie – the ever-ready swimming buddy – was always looking for a chance to take a quick dip. It didn’t matter what time of day or how cold the temperature was, if the back door was left ajar, she’d make a break for it, swim a lap and then look at you from the top steps, confused why you weren’t coming in too.

But as much as she loved swimming (and the other aforementioned favorite things), at the core, her deepest joy came from affection and attention. A classic Golden.

Taking a moment to scratch her head quickly turned into a five-minute rub down and she usually wouldn’t go away until her ears, back and tummy were all given the appropriate attention.

In fact, she was the only dog in the house who’d ignore food sitting on the edge of the table or a rattling cookie jar, in favor of finding the nearest unoccupied human for a scratch session.

But Millie’s drive had its drawbacks: she was very territorial.

As sweet as she was toward humans, she was the opposite toward other encroaching dogs. She put Rusty in the hospital a few times because he wouldn’t back down. Later on Penny and Rosie – Millie’s two younger Dachshund sisters – caught the wrath after crossing the line. They even have the scars to prove it. Ginger was so passive and smart, she never had a problem navigating Millie’s condition.

These altercations were not taken lightly and caused some very sad times for our family. We even explored giving her away for the sake of the other dogs’ health. In the end the pack stayed together and we did our best to manage their personalities and avoid conflicts.

Thankfully, it worked out and Millie stayed with us for the duration of her long and happy life.

As she grew older, her temper subsided (to an extent) and due to health issues and general old age, she slowed down. We could let her in the back yard without worrying (too much) about her jumping in the pool. Instead she’d mosey over to pick up apples that had fallen from the tree, sniff around the yard a bit, go potty and then come back inside for another nap. But not before sauntering your way for a “quick” pet.

Nope. Her need for love and affection never let up. Even really late in life.

Eventually Millie developed various internal growths and arthritis in her joints. We gave her pain medication for her hips and were able to remove some of the growths, but not all of them.

Earlier this year, the veterinarian noted that some growths were attached to vital organs, making surgery out of the question. And at that point, we knew it was just a matter of time for Moofers.

So I made a silent promise to do everything I could to make whatever time we had left together, the happiest as possible for our Golden.

This meant taking extra time to pat her head and goof around with her, every chance I got. Fortunately she stuck with us for about eight months after that prognosis…

Until one day she stopped eating, started bleeding internally, became anemic and began to shut down. She struggled to get up, never wagged her tail and didn’t move for hours on end. All a sad, far cry from the jovial Monfours we all knew and loved.

But the biggest shocker to me was her indifference to our hugs, ear scratches and other signs of affection. Usually, when I pulled my hand away from her coat, she’d immediately turn around and slam her nose back into my hand, letting me know I wasn’t done yet. Instead, she just kept panting with a stale, glazed, very non-Golden look in her eyes.

We debated how long to let her last in this condition, decided it was only getting worse and put Millie down on Friday, October 5, 2012.

In the days that followed, Millie’s absence was evident everywhere: her empty napping spots in hallways and family rooms; no wagging tail at the door; and no cold nose nudging me for a scratch while I sat on the couch watching TV.

And now I realize it wasn’t just Millie who was getting a kick out of all those ear-scratching sessions. She was giving back just as much affection as she was receiving. Every nose nudge, tail wag and tummy-rub was just one more hug and treat from Millie to her friend.

No wonder I can’t help but smile at Golden Retrievers.

We miss you, Millie.