Two dogs came into my life when I met my wife in 2016, Hanna and Malcolm. Both black labs, half-siblings, born in 2010 about six months apart with Hanna being the older sibling. They were purebred dogs that were judged not quite show worthy and Meg adopted them in 2011, first Malcolm and then Hanna.
I met them not long after meeting Meg, and got to know them well as Meg and I were dating. Malcolm and Hanna helped raise more than 30 foster kittens and got along famously with the cats in Meg’s household.
Despite their sly, food-stealing tendencies, and over-excited greetings every time I walked into the house, they had not a single aggressive molecule between them. Gallons of slobber, but not even the tiniest hint of danger to any living creature. Fingers holding treats being the sole possible exception, but only from over-exuberance and not from malice. They were even quite polite when wrestling each other for possession of the Kong filled with peanut butter, one of their favorite activities.
It was always a treat to watch them around new kittens. They always displayed respect, gentility, and deference to the foster kittens. They helped many a cat learn that dogs could be friends, and to be brave. If a kitten bapped their nose, they’d scurry away and give it space. The Knox Street crew of cats, our permanent trio of Sam, Sir Wobbles, and Cupcake, loved to sleep on the dog beds with Malcolm and Hanna next to the fireplace. Sometimes they even let Hanna and Malcolm stay on the beds…
Generally, I am not what you’d call a dog person, nor would I have chosen labs as pets. I love dogs, and love hanging out with them, but I prefer cats as housemates. Their aloof and quiet nature suits me much better at home than big dogs. Especially dogs that will steal food off your plate should you let your guard down. Especially dogs that seem to have a death wish and wind up in the doggy E.R. several times needing a stomach pump and expensive care after eating things they should definitely not eat, such as paintballs, large quantities of raisins, a bottle of prescription medicine, or a package of atomic fireball jawbreakers (in the wrappers, no less). At least the raisins made sense. Why Malcolm decided that paintballs were a treat is still a mystery.
Even so, when we decided to buy a house together, they were part of the family package and joined the pet menagerie we call home. We started in 2020 with seven (!) cats, and Malcolm and Hanna.
Labs are generally expected to live about 10-12 years. Malcolm and Hanna were already near the end of their warranty when we moved in together. They both sailed past their 12th birthdays in 2022 with very few signs of slowing down. Malcolm had a few white hairs on his muzzle by then, but if they were supposed to have expired by then, nobody informed them. We certainly weren’t going to tell.
Anybody reading this surely knows the trope of the dad who didn’t want a dog (or dogs) but then wound up loving the dog (or dogs). Well. It’s a trope for a reason, largely because it’s inevitable. I wouldn’t have picked them, but I loved them just the same and have enjoyed their company. Being the extremely soft touch for treats that I am, I think they’ve enjoyed mine as well.
Sometime in 2023, Malcolm tore his CCL. He was too old to undergo surgery, and we thought that his days were numbered. I mean, more numbered than all of ours are, and that he’d be crossing the proverbial rainbow bridge “soon”. He didn’t. Malcolm wasn’t about to let something like a bum leg keep him down. He limped along as best he could, undeterred. We upped his pain meds and took him for regular cold laser treatments to manage his pain the best we could.
Along the way, his hearing seemed to go. Hard to do a hearing test on a lab, but the boy who could hear the crinkle of a food bag at 100 paces was clearly not hearing us call his name.
Earlier this year, Hanna was diagnosed with cancer. It was relatively sudden, she was losing weight and starting to bark a lot more. Her sunny demeanor started to dim. It was clear that whatever the tumors were doing caused her anxiety and she was no longer enjoying her time. Usually an attention hog, she couldn’t be bothered to stay on the couch with her boy, who came home to see her from college. It was time, and we said goodbye to her before Summer.
Malcolm, who, we thought, would precede his sister, kept limping along. A few months ago, he started to have problems with incontinence. The vet diagnosed something something neuropathy and told us what to expect. His back legs would keep getting weaker, he’d be more incontinent, and also exhibit some signs of doggy dementia similar to sundowning. There would be a day when Malcolm wouldn’t be able to get up again.
We did not want to reach that point. He started to struggle to get up, or stay up. He’d stand with his back half low to the ground, clearly struggling to stay upright but not wanting to sit fully. Sometimes he’d have to scrabble and struggle a bit to get up. He had more anxiety, was restless in the evenings, pacing and panting. But his light never dimmed, which made it hard to decide to let him go. When it was Hanna’s time we felt she was no longer finding joy in life at all. Malcolm never stopped wagging and being happy to see us.
He turned 14 last week, and got to celebrate Christmas with us. He had a great time seeing his kiddos, and out of town family. We were even looser with snacks than usual, and he enjoyed some Christmas ham and other goodies. We made sure he had a really good last weekend. I took him for a last walk to sniff all the sniffs he wanted, and shared a beautiful sunset.
He had an extra dinner of a burger and fries on Sunday night. Monday morning he had an extra breakfast of pancakes, eggs, sausage, and a biscuit. He got in a final walkabout escape when he was let outside with the gate open, and came back on his own like the good boy he always was, but pleased with himself for pulling a sneaky.
Malcolm left the world surrounded by his family and with a belly full of treats. He made the most of his time, and gave so much love and joy. We are going to miss him terribly and remember him always.