Max

[This was written right when it happened. I've tried to edit out some of the blubbering, but, oh well.]

Which brings us to Scottian’s-Maximum Blues Boy… Also known as Max. If you don’t understand this… check the AKC naming rules.

Anyways…

Worlds. Most. Beautiful and perfect male Doberman.

Obviously, nobody is understanding this…. So I’ll try to explain.

Max was born in September 1998 to Blues… his mother… whom though I wasn’t there… I named her. She was my boy’s mother.

So when she got pregnant with her first litter, I took it upon myself to claim the first one from the litter. I was told no. Some time went by and he ended up being this little Doberman of a litter of 11, that was big trouble. Leader of the pack AND an escape artist. Got all of them out of any containment we could concoct.

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This caused a bit of distress in my home life cause he was a pup that could be sold at the time for $750 which my ex-wife and I could have used.

But I decided, damn the torpedos, and I was keeping him.

This caused a bit of a problem, and as soon as he was old enough (barely) to be away from his mother, he and I left and checked into a hotel where we spent the next week. A few of those days with me bottle feeding him cause maybe it was a little to early.

He was a hit. Everybody loved him.

There was a bar under the hotel and we’d hang out there until he obviously needed sleep and I’d take him to bed.

Such a good boy.

Our deal on the hotel room came to an end, and we went home.

With it being obvious I wasn’t letting him go, my ex-wife made me actually write an actual letter ( ya know, pen and paper), why I should be able to keep him instead of selling him.

I did and she agreed. Thanks.

Being an escape artist he would get out of anything and take somebody with him. Usually him and Bear his brother.

One time Max and Bear got out together and Max, thinking he was
protecting Bear bit a neighbor that was walking by. 

Not enough to do any damage, just protecting his brother.

Right after that, Max got hit by a car.

Hard.

And acted like nothing was wrong.

So became the boy that was Max.

Kind of like his Dad (me) he would take whatever pain came and act like it was nothing. When the car hit him he went over and laid there, and got up like it was nothing.

Never was good with hearing wheels rolling after that.

Not too long after that, his brother Bear and sister finally found homes, so it was just him and his Mom, Blues, his Aunt’s Mahogany and Sasha (a wolf/husky crossbreed.).

So he decides to take off, and he leaves the door open for Mahogany to follow.

Well, her being older, he deferred to her judgment and let her go. And followed her.

Unfortunately, she was old. Got so far and couldn’t go on. Max stayed with her.

He walked out to the road and sat there so we could find hm. Then led us into the woods to find her. He just wouldn’t leave her.

Max did a lot of amazing things… like befriending every dog that walked in. Like getting kicked out of obedience class when I had big plans for him to train for police duty.

Like making his best friend in the world (besides me) an African Grey Parrot who he loved dearly.

Max and Thunder were quite the crew. Max couldn’t say a word, but Thunder could certainly tell him what to do and he’d listen! Sometimes.

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So ten years. Ten years go by and Max deals with whatever and
listens to this bird bossing him around. Put’s up with the bird occaissionally biting him.

In the mean time, he makes friends with a CAT of all things.
That and couple of other dogs.

Whatever his instincts told him, his love for his Dad (me) told him to do the right thing, and he did. Without exception.

He never once hurt another animal of any kind ever.

He worked his ass off to prove that he loved me no matter what other kind of animals I happened to have feelings for.

In ten years he had one exceptionally violent moment.

After him and Blues went through an entire parade together, some idiot on a crotch rocket dived at him and Blues and he was about 9 months old and jumped up and grabbed that guy and almost pulled him off his bike. And had every right.

In ten years, that was the only time he was ever violent.

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So, Labor Day weekend, 2008 rolls around.

He’s days from his 10th birthday. He’s not right. Lethargic. Not eating food.

I can tell from what I saw with his Aunt Mahogany that he’s checking out.

It kills me.

I know there’s nothing to be done.

I just decide to do everything for him that I know that made him happy. I grilled him a ribeye, which he ate. Gave him a plate full of ice cream which he also loved and ate.
Wouldn’t touch the dog food.

Next morning, I tried to give him another ribeye and some more Ice cream. He couldn’t eat.

In the video I made, it shows him and I together and him in the yard standing and walking, that was the last time we were together, and he couldn’t eat. Steak and ice cream or not.

I gave him one last ride in the car, which he loved. We drove to Kwik Trip in Elroy. Had a couple people see Max and they would recommend vets who might be able to help him… I knew better.

Went to bed around 10:30.

At 4:00AM Jacob woke me up to say he didn’t think Max was breathing.

I was upset that Jake was up so early, but I went to check anyway and Maxie was gone. I’ve cried and balled like a baby all day, but nothing will bring him back.

If you believe the whole thing about fate, faith and believing… Max must have decided I was more ready to live without him, than I thought.

I know Thunder was with him when he died.

I’m pretty sure I believe he was talking to him. And I think that meant a lot to
him. Later I heard Thunder say "oh Maxie", and I know I only said that when I laid him to go to sleep last night.

Today I lost pet.

I also lost a friend. And a child. 

I’m heartbroken.

One person in twenty-two-two years, at least, that believed I could do no wrong, and he’s gone.

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**UPDATE**: It's now almost 5 years later and I can tell you it can still bring a tear to my eye thinking about this guy.

He lives on in so many ways.

My boys remember him and talk about him all the time. I had his body cremated and some of his ashes are in a chrome tube that is attached to the engine guard on my bike. It's engraved with his name. Obviously people ask about that.

He also carries on in my new dog.

When Max got sick I gave him a hard time, telling him if he left me I was going to replace him with a female Great Dane. He seemed unfazed.

At some point while he was sick he came up with this big Winnie The Pooh stuffed animal that nobody had any clue where it came from. So I teased him: "Is that what you want me to name that female Great Dane, 'Winnie'?"

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At 4 months Winnie was about the same size as Max was in adulthood. Now she can put her paws on my shoulder and her snout reaches over my head. How cool is that?

Winnie isn't, nor could she be a replacement for Max. She's her own dog. But she has made losing him a lot easier to deal with.

Max would have thought of her as a leggy blonde. I know that boy. :)

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