MAX

BY PARKER BEYUN

Oh God. It can't be today. It can't. I looked at the calendar hanging above my bed, and today was circled. The day Max and I would split up. Fifteen years of joy, running, playing fetch, eating together, and walking, and today is his last day with me. I wanted to do everything he loved, one last time. I sat up, seeing the golden retriever sleeping peacefully at the foot of my bed, leaving his perfectly good dog bed a few feet away to catch dust. I spent a hundred dollars on that thing, but he’d rather be at my feet. I woke the old dog and got him some food. Chicken thigh off the bone is so much better than the standard kibble.

We finished eating together. I grabbed his leash, and we strolled the city roads one last time. The powdery snow came down lightly, barely piling up to leave my boot tracks with his dog prints in the snow. It was the type of winter day where it was snowing, but felt surprisingly warm.

As we reached the nearly empty Central Park, I reached deep into my coat pockets to find the oh-so-magical tennis ball. That piece of crap was all torn up. I tried to get him to play with new ones, but this one had been with him since the beginning. And as I tossed the ball, he still knew what to do. Sprinting with all of his might, slipping and sliding in the snow, he still hustled as hard as he did as a puppy, falling and rolling around in the dirt, but still getting the ball, no matter how far I threw it. The open grass field at the park was his second home, where he spent hours a day working hard, playing harder.

He was not nearly as fast as he used to be, but he still had the same fire in his heart. If only the disease had never come back. His body looked old and tired, but his core was still young.

As the sun hit its peak, we went to the diner and grabbed some lunch. I grabbed a burger, and he had his custom diner order, a couple of pieces of beef mixed in with some vegetables. After I paid for our meals, we hopped in my pickup truck and went to the beach. The sand and the snow make it so tough to run on the sand, along with the fear of slipping into the frigid ocean, but it didn't matter. The open miles of beach were his paradise. We took a calming walk on the boardwalk, looking over the ocean tide receding farther and farther back. He looked so tired. The sunset over the coast, and as it sank under the ocean…it was time to go.

We got home and had a little time before the visitor came. Time was running out. The fireplace was one of the only things lighting the living room. I lay down on the couch, and Max got on top, taking one last nap on my chest. It wasn’t the same as when he was a little puppy. He was nearly as big as me, and boy was he heavy. But I didn't care. The fire crackled, little embers floating up and dying in the air, the smell of the ash burning across the room. Then, Fate knocked on the door. I let him in, and it was time. As much as it hurt, it had to happen.

I looked into Max’s eyes one last time. Fifteen years ago, I did this for the first time. This was the last. I hugged him with all my might, and hoped he didn't feel the injection in his back leg.

“I love you, Max,” I said. “Go to sleep, boy.”