FAREWELL MADONNA

Okay, I'm really sad right now because I just got off the phone with my mom who told me the details about how she put her dog Madonna to sleep today, so this is the only post I'm making tonight. Madonna was old, fourteen, and it was definitely time for her to go. She had been suffering from repeated strokes for the last couple of years, and, really, it was amazing that she had been doing so well for so long under the circumstances. I mean, that girl just kept bouncing back, almost like a cat with nine lives. But her luck finally ran out, no bouncing back this time, and my parents had to make what I believe to be one of the hardest decisions a person can make, euthanizing a loved one. So now she's buried in same backyard in which I played as a child.

I only lived with her for a couple of short spans in the early and then late 90s when I had boomeranged back home to take stock of my life, and she was a great comfort to me in my depressions. I grew to love her very quickly. My cats Giskard and Alec, on the other hand, hated her, of course, which was a drag because all Madonna ever wanted to do with them was hang out--the two felines terrorized the dog, despite her size and strength advantage. I did my best to keep them apart. She and I went for countless walks on the Kingwood bike trails of my childhood; she would always go into a tripped out frenzy whenever I grabbed the leash and said the word "walk."

I always walked her whenever I visited later--I allowed myself the vanity of thinking that she liked my walks better than anybody else's; she sure did act like it, but I know that she was really always my mother's dog. I am really going to miss her presence next time I'm home. The house just won't be the same without her.

Damn, I'm missing her right now even though I haven't seen her since August. The poor girl.


Me and a fairly young Madonna back in the early or mid 90s


A more mature Madonna for the new millenium

Farewell, Madonna. The world has lost a wonderful being.

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