As much as you may love all your pets, there is that occasional standout. The pet that not only was a beloved family member, but also represents an era of your life. One that had such force of character and personality that you can't help but compare subsequent pets to that one.
That pet for the Husband and I was our crooked-eared dog, Maggie.
The first ten months of our marriage was spent apart, since we were stationed on opposite coasts (and I was gone on a Persian Gulf deployment), and the Husband got lonely and wanted to get a dog. He wanted a yellow lab; I wanted a golden retriever. Searching the websites for local rescue organizations turned up this tiny yellow puppy that was supposedly a golden lab/golden retriever mix. How much more perfect could you get?! Upon my enthusiastic approval, the Husband brought her home.
Maggie in the Husband's office. He was in a position to get away with bringing her to work every day when she was really small!
Before long, the tiny yellow puppy began to grow...and grow...and one ear took on a most amusing appearance. Her face was slightly misshapen on that side as well.
That ear! Those big paws!
The Husband tended to be a more indulgent dog owner than I am. He let Maggie jump up on him, and get on the furniture, and lick his dinner plate. I was the major party pooper who moved in, put a stop to all those delightful activities, and embarked on a campaign to instill manners in what was now a considerably larger and quite rambunctious young dog.
And you know what--not only did she learn good manners very quickly, but she also loved me for it, and in the process I bonded with her far more than I'd thought possible. She devoted herself to me as "her person" to guard and be companionable with, and shadowed me around the house. She definitely loved the Husband just as much, especially when it came time to wrestle around on the floor and play. She did behave better for me, haha...since she had a huge Type A personality, she overall clicked with and responded to my more consistently milder self differently than she did with the Husband's own Type A-ness. She adopted roles to fit each of our personalities, and suited both of us beautifully.
The older she got, the more evident it became that the golden retriever diagnosis was mistaken. Somebody pointed out one day, "That dog is part German shepherd!" and then it was so apparent to us. She may have been part golden lab too, but her personality was 100% shepherd, an interesting mix of sweetness and aggressiveness, smart as could be. She grew to 90 pounds, had a deep very ferocious "guard dog" bark, and if the opportunity presented itself, she was more than happy and willing to fight. Other dogs tended to back down, so she never got the opportunity!
A funny "mistress vs the master" story is the time the Husband began tickling me and then when I ran, he chased me around the house. At one point, I loudly shrieked as he grabbed for me; and next thing we knew, Maggie (who had been prancing along in the rear enjoying the fun) leaped between us, turned to face him, and let out a protective rrrruff! She held her ground and watched him warily, as we stared at her in astonishment. Then, simultaneously, I collapsed laughing and cooing "good dog, oh good dog what a good girl Maggie!" as the Husband said "Hey! You're supposed to be my dog!! What happened to me being your favorite?!"
Maggie adored truck rides and going to the beach, and one thing that makes me sad is that now I can't find any pictures of her playing there. As we approached the parking area she would crash around in the back seat of the truck, uncontrollably and shrilly yelping with excitement. It seriously sounded like we were killing her and we'd get so many dirty looks at first! We would take her beloved red Kong ball along, walk far down the beach to an uninhabited spot, and throw the ball for her to chase across the hard-packed sand. She was so fast and had so much energy! She'd enthusiastically chase that ball to the point of being about to collapse, and gamely ask for more.
My favorite picture of Maggie and Teddy.
But what about Teddy, you may ask (for those familiar with my cat)? Without getting into particulars, Teddy had spent my deployment at my parents' house. After I returned stateside, transferred, and settled into life with the Husband and Maggie, I got Teddy back from my parents and we introduced him to Maggie. Well--that introduction did not go well. Maggie went crazy with excitement and tried to jump Teddy, who puffed up enormously and swatted her before fleeing. From then on Maggie considered it her job in life to harass the cat; Teddy held a massive grudge, and refused to be anywhere near her.
We lived for a month or so under a state of constant standoff, until we took a ten day trip and boarded both the animals. And I kid you not, when we picked them up from the vet and got them home, Teddy walked over to Maggie and rubbed against her legs, and Maggie just put her nose down and looked at him benignly. Apparently going to jail together bonded them into the best of friends. Oh, what buddies they were indeed! We joked that Teddy thought he was a dog, too.
They would play the funniest games of Chase, often starting with Teddy lying in wait on one of our kitchen chairs. When Maggie walked by you'd see his paw shoot out and swat her butt or grab at her tail. Maggie would whirl and pounce toward the chair, whereupon Teddy would pop back and forth across the chairs under the table as Maggie ran back and forth around the table. Finally, Teddy would burst out and race across the house, Maggie in hot pursuit, and they'd tear around the furniture; Maggie was generally at a disadvantage going around corners on the slippery hard floor. Still, she would be right on Teddy's tail when he would cheat by going up and over the couch, leaving her to run around it while he hopped up on the half wall and teased her from his lofty height. (She was such a good girl because even in the height of those games she didn't jump over the couch or up on the half wall, even though she could have physically done both.)
This isn't the place for the end of Maggie's too-short story, because it's a sad one. Suffice it to say that we miss her quirky and vivid personality dearly, and have a special place for her in our memories...because she wasn't "just" our first dog we shared together. For me anyway, Maggie also represents the beginning of married life with the Husband and carefree days in sunny Florida, living just a mile from the beach and doing the "dual income, no kids" thing. Weekends of golf and hanging out on the beach and spending gratuitous amounts of money on Friday night sushi dinners. Evenings with nothing particular to do but walk the dog after dinner and then cozy up in the living room. While I wouldn't trade my current (very different!) life to go back to that one, I'm grateful that we had it, and grateful that we had Maggie to spend it with us. We'll love you always Maggie Mae <3