No, Max wasn't a Sheltie - he was a giant 80 pound Border Collie, but he always thought he was a Sheltie. He was Neechee's junior by two years, and Neechee convinced him he was indeed just another Sheltie!
Four years ago today, my divorce attorney called to tell me that Max (in the court-ordered possession of my soon-to-be ex) had died. I was heartbroken, and blamed myself for many years. Max had been my second heart dog. But my ex had fought me in court for him, and rather than have the judge take both my dogs, I finally had surrendered Max to him the year before. I had had to move into my parents' home, and while they would allow me to keep Neechee there, Max was out of the question, since I was in a wheelchair and could not take care of him properly. It was still devastating, though.
Max came from working stock dog lines, and loved herding, agility, tricks, therapy work, and flyball. He also was a genius obedience competitor. Basically, all I did was follow him around the ring. He won his CD, along with a Dog World Award for three 200 scores in his first three times out. He loved working my uncle's cows and my friend's sheep and geese. Max's great-grandmother played the mother dog in the movie "Babe".
He posed for several ad agencies in the Atlanta area, and graced a 1997 billboard driving a van to advertise alternative commuting. His favorite therapy visits were to Children's Hospital of Atlanta and Scottish Rite Children's Hospital. He also loved visiting my grandfather and his friends at his nursing home and showing off all his cute little tricks. His was a very sweet, innocent soul dipped liberally in the qualities of fun and humor. I always claimed we should have named him "Loki" because of his mischievous tricks.
Poor Max should have had better at the end. I later learned that my ex had left him in a small laundry room with food and water for three days straight while he had gone out of town to see his girlfriend. When my ex returned, Max was barely alive and rushed to the emergency vet. However, there was little they could do. Max had had an undetected cancerous tumor that could have been treated if it had been noticed soon enough. I would have found that tumor on his abdomen soon enough for treatment - I give my dogs a daily going over with my hands just to check for such things. The vet assured me that I would have noticed it. Instead, my ex neglected to do this, and the judge's order to surrender my boy Max was his death sentence.
I begged my ex to have Max cremated and share the ashes with me. He refused to do so. Broke my heart all over again. At the final hearing for the divorce, my attorney questioned me on the witness stand about Max. I broke down in tears and blamed myself for allowing my ex to take him. I don't think I'll ever get through blaming myself.
Anyway, Rest in Peace, my big schnozoo. You and Neechee will be waiting for me at Rainbow Bridge.
Four years ago today, my divorce attorney called to tell me that Max (in the court-ordered possession of my soon-to-be ex) had died. I was heartbroken, and blamed myself for many years. Max had been my second heart dog. But my ex had fought me in court for him, and rather than have the judge take both my dogs, I finally had surrendered Max to him the year before. I had had to move into my parents' home, and while they would allow me to keep Neechee there, Max was out of the question, since I was in a wheelchair and could not take care of him properly. It was still devastating, though.
Max came from working stock dog lines, and loved herding, agility, tricks, therapy work, and flyball. He also was a genius obedience competitor. Basically, all I did was follow him around the ring. He won his CD, along with a Dog World Award for three 200 scores in his first three times out. He loved working my uncle's cows and my friend's sheep and geese. Max's great-grandmother played the mother dog in the movie "Babe".
He posed for several ad agencies in the Atlanta area, and graced a 1997 billboard driving a van to advertise alternative commuting. His favorite therapy visits were to Children's Hospital of Atlanta and Scottish Rite Children's Hospital. He also loved visiting my grandfather and his friends at his nursing home and showing off all his cute little tricks. His was a very sweet, innocent soul dipped liberally in the qualities of fun and humor. I always claimed we should have named him "Loki" because of his mischievous tricks.
Poor Max should have had better at the end. I later learned that my ex had left him in a small laundry room with food and water for three days straight while he had gone out of town to see his girlfriend. When my ex returned, Max was barely alive and rushed to the emergency vet. However, there was little they could do. Max had had an undetected cancerous tumor that could have been treated if it had been noticed soon enough. I would have found that tumor on his abdomen soon enough for treatment - I give my dogs a daily going over with my hands just to check for such things. The vet assured me that I would have noticed it. Instead, my ex neglected to do this, and the judge's order to surrender my boy Max was his death sentence.
I begged my ex to have Max cremated and share the ashes with me. He refused to do so. Broke my heart all over again. At the final hearing for the divorce, my attorney questioned me on the witness stand about Max. I broke down in tears and blamed myself for allowing my ex to take him. I don't think I'll ever get through blaming myself.
Anyway, Rest in Peace, my big schnozoo. You and Neechee will be waiting for me at Rainbow Bridge.
