Maga

Maga

I first met Maga on a visit to see my daughter and my son in law in Durham, North Carolina. As an ardent Humane Society volunteer, Julia was fostering Maga. She had been picked up as a stray outside of Durham, filthy and bedraggled and with a severe case of kennel cough. She was isolated from all other dogs for several weeks and then efforts were made to find an adoptive home for her. On a visit to Petsmart to try to find Maga a home, Julia overheard a little boy remark that no one would want that dog, because she was ugly! Julia said efforts had been made to clean her up, but she continued to look bedraggled. Her time to find an adoptive home from the Humane Society ended, and she was to be put to sleep. A nursing home was interested in her, but Julia worried that there would not be enough physical exercise for Maga in that environment. A fellow volunteer and veterinarian asked Julia to foster Maga, which also entailed finding a permanent home for her. She told Julia that Maga had a wonderful temperament, was self-confident and well-adjusted (despite all the hardships), and she did not want her to be disposed of. At Julia and Jon’s apartment, I watched with amusement as their Boston terrier and Maga played. But soon Maga made it clear that she preferred to sit in front of me in the hope and expectation of being petted. As I said goodbye to return to my hotel that night, Julia pointed out to me that I had said goodbye to Maga, but not her beloved Boston, Boggs. I was in love.
My husband Bob and I were new empty nesters, our youngest daughter Alison having headed off to college. I had reluctantly agreed to no more dogs, to allow us the freedom to travel and avoid all the work a dog entailed. But I was in love. When I asked Bob to agree to adopt Maga, he said “the dogs we have had until now were dogs either I or the girls wanted. It’s time for you to have your dog.” I returned home to River Falls, Wisconsin, and we arranged to have Maga flown to the twin cities. I was very worried about how she would manage the flight, especially after all the transitions she had been through. I can still see Maga coming out of the crate at the airport, her tail wagging slightly as she serenely greeted her new life
As the weeks and months went by, Maga’s coat transformed from a medium-length, unremarkable brown to a rich and full red, fluffy and thick and totally compatible with the Wisconsin winters she found herself in. She loved the snow, catching the snowflakes on her tongue and paws and lying down in it for long periods of time. But mostly Maga loved her family and her walks. When I got the leash, she was so happy, she would jump, her front paws rebounding off my legs to do a full 360 degree circle, then jumping again for yet another celebration. We walked three times a day, sometimes through the neighborhood but often on the trails surrounding the Kinnickinnic River. It was on those walks that I figured out what I wanted to do with my empty nest years. Maga was unfailingly with me as I served on the school board, obtained a Ph.D., and, most significantly, when Bob and I separated and I moved to the twin cities. Each evening when I said good night, I would add “thank you for being my dog.” I was blessed to have Maga with me for 13 years. While our time together wasn’t nearly long enough. I am glad she is now free of her aged body and arthritic limbs. Now when I go to bed, I say “thank you for being my dog. See you at the rainbow bridge.”