Man's best friend.

Looking Regal by *LLoire on deviantART

I find myself sad this evening, but also reflective. Above is an image of my family's Golden Retriever, Mariah, taken a little more than 4 years ago.

She came into my life 13 years ago, when my stepbrother Rob decided again to move back in with us in Ramapo. The dog originally belonged to him--a distraction his mother bought for him to try to keep him from moving back with his dad. At the time, she was just a puppy, maybe just a few months old. I fell in love with her immediately, as Golden Retrievers remain to this day one of my favorite breeds of dog. As you probably can guess, she was named after Mariah Carey, of whom Rob was utterly infatuated with at the time.

Regardless, we suddenly had a two-dog house. We had acquired a puppy from our neighbor shortly before he moved back in --our neighbor's female pit bull had given birth to a litter of puppies that were part pit, part coy dog. The pit bull must have broken free of its chain and had a tryst with one of the feral creatures that made the backwoods of Harriman State Park its home.

It was always fun seeing the two of them grow up and always play with each other. Dogs are smart creatures, much smarter than we give them credit for. They understand routine--when I started working the evening shift at McDonald's, they knew I got in that door at 10 PM, waited patiently by said front door for me to change out of my McUniform, and then I walked both dogs at the same time.

Mariah was always quieter, calmer, and more reserved than Thunder, the pit-bull mix, but just as playful. After leaving for college, Thunder was hit with lyme disease, something my family didn't catch until it was too late--we were pretty meticulous about checking for ticks, but her brindled fur cleverly hid the one that would prove to be fatal. She had swelled up like a balloon, and to heal her would've broken the bank--we had to put Thunder down at just over 6 years of age. It hit my family pretty hard.

After my family had moved to Cape Cod, Mariah too began to show signs of lyme, and it looked like she was going to suffer the same fate Thunder did, but the vet worked some magic and healed her.

I remain convinced that dogs know when something's not right. Mariah was there to keep my stepdad sane during the troubled times living on Old Barnstable Road. She was with him practically every minute of every day; she went with him to work, even. No wonder why dogs make good therapy. Even recently, when my family had to move to a new house, she was there to keep him company.

As the years passed, she, like us, got older, and arthritis set in, ultimately fusing her lower back together, making it a bit difficult to move. A uterus infection threatened to take her life last year, but the same vet performed a successful surgery--I remember visiting my family right after she had said surgery...she was rolling around, being just as playful--you wouldn't even think that she just had the canine equivalent of a hysterectomy.

Finally, just like in baseball, it's three strikes and you're out. Having been saved from death twice, the third time would come now--noticing that just getting up was proving far more difficult, she was taken to the vet--the same vet that had saved her twice--and it was found that she was bleeding internally. In order to find out where exactly the problem was and have a chance at fixing it would cost way more than my family could spare--a couple grand, at least. Even if the problem was found and corrected, it would only extend her life by maybe half a year.

So the decision was made today for her to be put down; in one way, I'm glad--glad her suffering will come to an end. Sad, of course, for the family, but especially my stepdad, who's about to lose another best friend. It's my hope that he gets a new dog soon...he needs something to care for. Nearly all the kids have moved out; my sister's the only one left. Even though my contact with Mariah all but disappeared after moving out of my parents' house 6 years ago, my love for her never waned. The news of her pending death reduced me to a bit of a crying wreck earlier this evening--I got on Skype to talk to my sister, where I also saw Mariah on the webcam--the last time I'll ever see her. I think she could sense that the end is coming; animals seem to know when their number's about to be called. However, I can at least take comfort in the fact that she's heading to a better place--reunited with Thunder after eight years apart, and together they'll romp and be puppies again forever.

Go to sleep, pup. Say hi to Tweeter for me.