In memory of Maizie

I'm sorry I haven't written in so long. The evening after I wrote my last post, my family's sweet puppy dog, Maizie, had to be put down. I was heartbroken. After a few days of crying and missing her, I knew I wanted my next post to be a tribute to her. But between work, a trip to Georgia, and the recent Boston marathon explosions, I haven't had the time or emotional energy to write. I didn't want to just dash off a quick memory; I wanted only the best words to remember Maizie.

These are not them. I could write for years about Maizie and how much I loved her, and nothing would ever be good enough. So I am just writing something.

Maizie joined our family when she was about a year old, in May of 2000. I remember deciding that her "birthday" was May 26, but I no longer remember whether that was the day we found her or the day we brought her home (a few days later). The day she came home, Grandmother and Grandaddy were visiting St. Louis, and forever after, Maizie knew them as family, too. It didn't matter that they only visited every few years--Maizie still recognized them. And when she recognized someone she loved, she would bark, squeak, and run around like crazy. The frenzy that ensued whenever Rebecca or I came home from the airport in recent years was incredible. Maizie always recognized the sound of the car pulling into the driveway, and she would rouse herself from wherever she was napping and head towards the door. But then, as soon as we (the "visitor") called to her, Maizie would full out sprint to the door, barking and squeaking uncontrollably. She would briefly pause by our legs for us to pet her, wriggling with joy, before taking off to run circles around the house--as though she had too much excitement to contain in her little body, as though she didn't know how to bear the unexpected joy of being petted by too-distant loved ones. (She also did this nearly every time we asked her if she wanted to go on a walk. There was a lot of happiness and excitement in Maizie's life.)

Grandmother and Grandaddy took this photo on one of Maizie's first days in the family!

I always thought of Maizie as my best friend. We brought her home at the end of my 7th grade year, just a few months before Rebecca left for college. Middle school is a tumultuous time for most preteens, and I was no exception. I was suddenly an only child at home, and I was grateful to have someone to talk to, take walks with, and play with. Maizie and I went on long walks where I told her everything. Maizie didn't listen exactly (squirrels were way too distracting), but I talked - aloud, sometimes, or sometimes just in my head - about everything from frustrations with middle school social life and unrequited crushes to stress about which extracurricular activities to pursue and the college application process (during which I went from defiantly proclaiming I would not even apply to the school my sister went to, to falling in love with Brown one summer and applying nowhere else). Unlike many of my friends, I was never anything but excited to leave for college--but I quickly realized that the worst homesickness was actually missing Maizie. I wished I could call or email her the way I could my mom. In the years following, as I moved first to Ann Arbor and then to Boston, I continued to miss Maizie horribly. I never stopped thinking of her as my best friend, even if I only saw her a couple times a year.

Maizie and me on a walk at Thanksgiving 2012, the last time I saw her.

Sometimes I would ask Mom to put the phone to Maizie's ear so I could say hello. This confused Maizie, though, so we didn't do it often. Maizie seemed to recognize my voice, but just couldn't figure out how I got into that small piece of plastic. Mom said she would sometimes glance back and forth between the phone and the door, wondering when I was going to appear.

That technological mystery aside, Maizie was the smartest little dog I've ever known. She wasn't always perfectly well behaved, but I continue to think that some of that was her trying to outsmart us. She would masterfully sneak her cute little nose under our elbows to poke her head into our arms for a snuggle. (Sometimes she attempted this at the dinner table, which was really just her attempt to get closer to our plates, albeit disguised as cuteness. And sometimes she attempted this while we were sitting on the ground; she didn't seem to realize until she got into our laps that she was actually too big for a lapdog.) She became really good at standing on her hind legs, probably so that she could get closer to the dinner table. She loved to play fetch, and knew all of her toys by name. She invented a game ("zip zip zip"--she would race as fast as she could around the house, stopping only to be egged on by our clapping and shouts of "Zip zip zip, Maizie!"). She chased her tail. She also chased squirrels, and rabbits, and sometimes bumblebees, but she never cared about catching them. She sometimes helped sniff out Easter eggs during our backyard Easter egg hunts. She learned to sit down on the sidewalk before crossing the street in case of traffic. She would sit about one-third of the way up the front staircase and look into the mirror adjacent to the front door in order to get a better view out of the narrow sidelight windows. She even figured out that meals only appeared after she went outside, so when she was hungry, she would beg to go outside, play in the yard for a pathetic minute or so, and then come back in expecting to see a full bowl. Maizie's little manipulative self became most apparent, though, every time we took her to "camp." She would bark and howl mercilessly on the car ride to the kennel, totally inconsolable. (These car rides were the only times I felt less than loving toward Maizie.) She would launch a sit-down strike outside the door to camp, and then she would cling to our legs once dragged inside. Wouldn't you know it, though, the minute a cheery staffer took her leash and walked her around the lobby desk, little Maizie's tail would start wagging enthusiastically and she would trot off, as happy as could be. It was a perfectly executed guilt-trip, and she performed it for thirteen years.

Maizie waits patiently before crossing the street.

Maizie keeps an eye on the neighborhood from her favorite spot on the stairs.

It's sad to think about life without Miss Maizie. There are so many memories that I never want to fade--the soft, silkiness of her light brown ears; her thick, furry tail that hinted at something other than beagle heritage; the sound of her bark and squeak; the way she seemed to smile when she was excited. The stories here are just the tiniest fraction of what I love and remember about Maizie. I could go on talking about her for ages. Maizie was a loyal and loving dog who only ever wanted to be close to her family. I'm thankful that she always seemed to remember me, despite me being so far away for so long. Maizie sure wriggled her way into my heart, and I only hope I wriggled my way as deeply into hers as well.

What a cutie! We're going to miss this little beagle.