The last car ride

She was chasing dogs right up til the end.

As we drove up Central Park West, Maggie saw something crossing the street. Through her cloudy and blurred eyes, she could still make out that it was a dog. Maggie perked up in the back seat, let out a snort and a soft bark. If she could've bolted through that back door, she would have. And despite her old, crippled legs... she would've chased that dog halfway across the west side.

But the moment passed, the dog disappeared in the rear view mirror, and Maggie laid back down in Taunia's lap while I continued up the street, past 67th and 70th, then taking a left on 72nd street. For Maggie, this was comfortable. She was used to riding in a car. She'd ridden shotgun as Taunia and I moved across the country. First to Kansas City, then Denver... and on to Chicago, and all the way to New York City. That dog had logged thousands of miles. But this was her last.

At the vet's office, Taunia and Maggie waited while I checked in with the receptionist, choking back tears. A few minutes later, the vet told us to come on back. I should've carried Maggie down the short flight of stairs, because, as usual, she stumbled and nearly fell. In the last two years, as arthritis coursed through her back legs, she always fell. She wasn't her old self. She'd lost 20 pounds over the last year. Her kidneys weren't working right. She had to go to the bathroom seemingly every few minutes. The reliable Dalamation, who'd gone a decade without an accident in the house, could no longer make it to the front door.

Because of her health, the time had come to say goodbye. This was supposed to happen more than a month ago, but we chickened out. We just couldn't go through with it. We cancelled the appointment. But now, it was clearly the right thing to do. Maggie just wasn't her old self.

Tears overcame me and I left the room, as the doctor went over the game plan with Taunia. First they'd give her a shot in the back... a sedative to calm her down. Then, a few minutes later, they'd insert a needle in her leg, and administer a shot that would quickly and painlessly put her out of her misery.

I came back in, and Taunia and I spent a few minutes saying goodbye, and remembering the good times. This dog has been a part of us from the very beginning. She glided down the aisle on our wedding down, wearing a special pillow with our rings attached. A few weeks later, when we moved into our first home, we watched as she leaped over our chain link fence, like a gazelle, to go play with Dexter... the Jack Russell terrier who lived next door. But in recent years, the whimsy of youth had yielded to the frailty of old age.

Then the vet gave Maggie the sedative and left the room. Taunia and I petted and kissed her while she fought off the drug, but within a few minutes, she was calmly on her side, lying on a carpet square on the floor, licking her leg and her snout.

The vet and her aide entered the room. With Taunia and I petting her, the doctor put a catheter in her leg, then administered the final shot. Taunia and I choked back tears. I looked over at the vet's assistant, and she was crying too. Then, five seconds later, Maggie lifted her head, let out a final breath, and our sweet lady was gone.