We lost Maia yesterday. Just like that. One minute she was a happy dog, begging for treats and snuggling her cat. An hour later, at 2am, she was on the floor seizing. We gave her medication to bring her out of it, but she never regained full awareness. Despite everything we did, she continued to seize throughout the night. Since it was a holiday, we had a difficult time finding an open animal hospital. We finally found one twenty minutes away and our neighbor drove us. There was nothing anyone could do for her. Her mind was already gone, her body was fighting. We had no choice but to let her go and end her suffering.

I am crushed. Numb. Devastated. If you’re a regular reader, you know that my dogs aren’t “just dogs” to me. They’re family. They saved me from the darkest pits of depression when I was dealing with infertility. You also know that we just lost Tasha a few months ago. I think we always knew Maia wouldn’t stay long after Tasha went. I just thought we’d have at least a year in between.

Maia was a dog like no other. A completely unique personality. She was silly and sweet, incredibly smart and a bit diabolical when it came to getting her own way. A master thinker, a brilliant mind. She was the Alpha in her pack of three, and she knew it. When she was a puppy, my then-husband used to pamper her like a little princess. She was his favorite, and she learned how to milk it!

Maia was a gabber. We called her the “Hall Monitor” because whenever the other dogs or the cats would get into mischief, she’d bark at them and tell them to simmer down. If she wanted something and you didn’t hop to it, she’d bark to let you know that she was waiting.

She was a good sport, too. The only dog that would let me dress her up. So tolerant. When Jake was a toddler, he’d sit on her back drinking his milk and watching cartoons. She didn’t mind at all, as long as everyone knew that she got dibs on any snacks that he dropped.

Maia hated puppies, but she loved kittens. She became their surrogate mom. Fuzz, especially, is going to be lost without her.

I’ve never seen a cat love a dog so much, or a dog allow herself to be loved by a cat so fiercely. Fuzz would pet her, knead on her, hug her, then settle down to sleep next to her.

Maia is gone now. Just like that. One minute she was here. The next she was gone. With Tasha, we had warning. We knew it was coming. Maia was fine. She was fine. Then she wasn’t. The world isn’t the same without her. The only peace I have is knowing that she’s with Tasha again.

Goodbye, Maia. You were an amazing dog, and I’m so lucky that when I asked “which puppy wants to come home with me,” you stepped forward and said “me!”