Maggie

Maggie & Merrin, Jan. 2007

Merrin’s Maggie: September 1997-October 5^th, 2010.

Maggie:  the guru of ‘Good-O’ games, the fluffball of foolishness, the tailwag of tummy rubs, the mascot of Merrin.

We remember her first foray into motherhood: …..Merrin was away on school camp but the puppies would not wait. Maggie gave birth on Merrin’s bed, then ran to waken Bryn and spread the good news…. And the night one of her fat little pups drank so much milk he had a belly ache:  After trying for ages to settle him, Maggie came and appealed to us in desperation, the distraught new mum at 2.00 am!  Steve cuddled the puppy on his chest, as he used to do with our colicky babies, and with Maggie and the other pups beside him on the bed, we all went back to sleep.

We remember Maggie proudly enjoying the limelight at Merrin and Matt’s wedding: until the heat and the crowd became too much for a 10 year old dog.  I can still hear the shrieks of alarm from the hired help when she discovered “the dog in the food tent”.  In search of somewhere cool and quiet, Maggie had snuck in and curled up in a basket under the table – containing the bread rolls!  They must have made a frightfully lumpy mattress.  I explained that it wasn’t just any dog, it was Maggie, the bride’s dog, and so everything was OK.  Later, she was found asleep on Merrin’s wedding train at the bridal table.

We remember halcyon holidays camping and canoeing on the Wonangatta River. Maggie loved holidays even more than regular car outings, but best of all she loved the canoe rides. Balanced on the front of the boat, she was both figurehead and lookout. Unconcerned about the slippery surface of the plastic prow, she occasionally fell in, but was readily scooped out by her collar when Merrin came level with her dog-paddling dilemma.

We remember lazy walks along our creek: Merrin’s doting shadow, Maggie helped with the photography, the pesky ducks that needed chasing, or the wombat dens that needed a good barking. In later years she often waited to be lifted over logs, and sometimes just wore out and had to be carried back.

We remember 13 years of companionship and love, with never a cross bark or a nip – while some of us grew up and some of us grew old.  In the twinkling of an eye, our frolicsome fluffball became our dozing doorstop and all too soon we were uttering our stricken goodbyes and casting forget-me-nots into her grave.

Sleep peacefully in the sun, our Maggie. You are part of us all.