Madison

I woke up that Monday just like I would have on any other Monday; grumpy, tired and
less than thrilled that I had to go to school. When I finished slogging through my morning
routine, I hugged my mom goodbye as she wished me good luck on my calculus quiz. Before I
hopped in my car to head off, I scratched Madisons head while she perched on her ramp that my
dad constructed for her when she became too weak to make the two-step climb onto the deck.
She wagged her tail and then dozed off as I backed out of my driveway.
I arrived at school and continued my morning rituals. Finding a parking spot at the
Mormon church (I could never bring myself to pay for the ridiculously priced school parking
spots), making the mile long trek to the commons, and sitting with my buddies to discuss the
previous nights sporting events. As always, the bell rudely interrupted us at 8:45 sharp. We all
groaned and made our way to first period, but at least we had the Monday schedule to look
forward to, all six classes squeezed into one day. Class flew by uneventfully except for my fifth
period physics class, by far my least favorite. In order to reduce the stress of my senior year
schedule, my parents suggested that I avoid AP Physics and instead opt for the standard
placement course. It bored me. After I managed to make it past the 50 minute speed bump in
my day, the standard Monday continued. When the final bell rang, I bolted from class to head to
the after school commons. My buddies and I had to finish our sports analysis that we failed to
resolve during lunch. One of my friends, Eamon, couldnt stop trash talking about our heated
fantasy football game. Once I felt that I finally convinced him that the Monday Night Football
game would save my team, I began my hike back to my car.
I arrived home and Madison, still perched atop her ramp, gave me the standard tail wag
as I pulled up. As I walked into the house, I left the door open behind me so she could

eventually make her way in. From the kitchen could hear her slowed and labored steps as her
paws clicked against the hard wood. Her bark startled me as I was preparing her pills. She knew
this as the time she got to scarf down human food. I finished wrapping the pills in ham, ignoring
her impatient cries for the snacks.
My mom arrived home from work early that day. Madison didnt notice her car as she
drove up. When my mom walked in the door I knew what she was about to tell me. I could see
it in her face.
I made an appointment for Maddy, she said forcing her words through her tears, Its
tomorrow.
I only managed to choke out, Why? as my knees went week. But I knew why. I knew
that my family had to make this decision. The dread and pain that I had been forcing to the back
of my mind for 15 and a half years finally became reality. The countdown began and time
started slipping away.

Before my third birthday my mom finally convinced my dad to move our family out of
the cow town of Duvall to Bainbridge Island. With my older brother and me in mind, they
decided on a house in a quiet neighborhood with a giant yard. Soon after the move, we decided
to complete our transformation to the picturesque middle class family and get a yellow lab
puppy. My mom, just as she had meticulously researched our new home, found a breeder nearby
in Port Townsend.
My brother and I couldnt wait to escape our car seats as we pulled up to the farm. The
sea of yellow fur balls quickly caught our eyes. After my dad unbuckled me and my mom freed
my brother, we ran off to investigate. As my parents followed us towards the dogs, my brother

announced, I want this one. My mom delicately explained that we already had a dog picked
out. When my parents finished talking to the breeder, we were on our way home to our new
house as a new family.

Madison, like any other puppy, loved chewing anything that she could get her needle
sharp puppy teeth on. One of her favorites happened to be my diaper. For what seemed like
hours, she would chase me around our front yard taking nips at my diaper with my brother
occasionally stepping in seeking Madisons attention. My parents watched from a distance,
admiring their children.

My mom refused to leave Madison at home alone during her puppy years and my dad
knew better than to argue. When we arrived at one of my dads firefighter buddys home for a
picnic, Maddy pounced out of the car and like any Labrador would, found the nearby river. As
we all tried to chase her down, onlookers gathered as she jumped into the stream. Fearing the
worst, my brother and I began to wail. My dad started stripping down ready to dive in after her.
One of his friends stopped him and asked, Is that a lab?
My dad nodded.
Let her be, shell figure it out for herself.
Maddys oversized paws finally kicked into action fighting against the current as she
made her way back to land with her snout perched above the water.

Eventually my parents figured that Madison could stay in our laundry room by herself
if we all had to leave the house. On the first trial run we returned home to find a hole chewed

and pawed through the drywall. The hole remained there for about ten years, a mark of her
puppy years.

Madison never liked being home alone. She made this apparent when she chased the car
the end of the driveway with only her Invisible Fence holding her back. When we returned, she
went on what became known as poochie on parade. At the first glance of head lights or the
crack of gravel, she began sprinting around the house. She would eventually settle down enough
to greet us.
Before long, Madison believed herself to be human, evident by the fact that she joined
our family dinners. My dad protested demanding that she went to her rug. However, unable to
turn down the chance of spilled food, the rug moved closer and closer to the dinner table.
Before long, Madison considered underneath the table to be the rug.
Maddy started joining us on our annual trips to the Oregon Coast, she attended Little
League games and still hated being home alone. However, all of this came to an abrupt stop
around her eighth birthday.
My brother had one of his friends, Cole, over for dinner. Madison had been kicked out
of the house for jumping up on the table desperately trying for some food. Cole glanced at her
and noticed that her gums were bleeding. Rather than brushing it off as poor hygiene, my
parents took her to the vet the next day where they diagnosed her with Idiopathic
Thrombocytopenia. I couldnt bear to hear the facts of the disease. I felt my time with Madison
drawing to a close. Yet Madisons perseverance forced to me push this dread to the back of my
mind as she made a full recovery.

Although she managed to recover, her sickness marked the beginning of her decline
years. Her lipoma covered body failed to parade as it once did, cataracts plagued her eyes and
she was practically deaf. Despite her disabilities, her happiness never came into question.
However, after years of pills to ease her aching joints, her sanity started to escape her. She
barked at anything that moved and began refusing meals. We began broaching the topic of
putting her to sleep, an incredibly difficult discussion for my immediate family, relatives and
neighbors who had grown so fond of Madison over the years. Her pain became too much for us.
She deserved to be in a better place.

Tuesday. The day I had been dreading. Everything blurred together that day until I
started my car to drive home to see her one final time. It started to pour as I neared my house.
Windshield wipers at full speed, wheels hydroplaning, none of it fazed me. I couldnt focus on
the road. Somehow I made it home. She was in the TV room. During the day she watched a
Clint Eastwood movie with my dad and got her favorite dog treats from the local bakery. I sat
with her, tears streaming down my face, paralyzed by sadness.
I have to take her now, my dad told me somberly.
I couldnt bring myself to go to the vet. After I said my final goodbye I sat motionless for
about half an hour. After that time, the sun broke through the cloudy sky. Then my parents
drove up. We reflected on all of the good times, celebrating the life of our favorite dog.