Maia was my biggest heartbreak.
We got Maia in 2008 as a “free to a good home” puppy. She was 9 months old, and her life had already been turned upside down. Her owners had divorced, and she ended up spending 12 to 14 hours a day locked in an outdoor run. Tiernan was 7 months old at the time, and the two of them became instant best friends.
Maia was a Great Dane x Labrador, and we used to joke that we were hoping for a smaller Dane, not a bigger Lab.
When Tiernan died at the end of 2011, Maia took it hard. Between then and August, we had a steady procession of dogs through the house: two foster dogs, Julius, and then a doggy houseguest. In August, we brought home Jazzy.
Maia and Jazzy mostly got along, unless Jazzy was in heat, but that is a story for another time. As the years passed and Maia settled into herself, she truly became that dog… the once-in-a-lifetime soulmate dog. She was fun, trouble, fiercely loyal, and full of personality. She never would have given up on us, not in a million years. I miss her so much, especially because I know she would have been the perfect dog for my daughter to grow up with.
2017 was a wild, exciting, and devastating year. My husband was overseas for eight months, and one silver lining was that it gave us the opportunity to do some amazing travel. But it was also a year full of hardship: multiple vet trips, and I even totaled my favourite car.
At the beginning of that year, we incidentally found what was thought to be “most likely” splenic cancer. They wanted to biopsy it, but we chose to recheck it in three to six weeks instead. Thankfully, it did not change, so it may have been something benign that had always been there.
By the end of the year, Maia began having back issues. We treated it like an injury, and she was put on pain medication. It was Christmas, and we were preparing to drive from Alberta to Ontario. Her pain flared again, so we picked up more medication for the 36-hour drive and arranged another vet visit. Still, no one could find a cause. Then she started having trouble with her back legs, which eventually led to paralysis. She also lost the ability to urinate, and we had to express her bladder.
I was convinced it was a slipped disc and thought we would arrange an MRI once we got back home. We even tried laser therapy, hoping it might give her some relief.
When there was still no improvement, we were referred to the Guelph Veterinary College Hospital. Our vet had called ahead, explained the urgency, and we were assured they would get her in for an MRI. We drove four hours there, only to be told they were short-staffed and could not do the MRI after all. They would not even do X-rays. They did nothing, and they sent us home without answers.
A couple of days later, we loaded up the car and made the drive back to Alberta. The day after we got home, we had an appointment for therapy. They were concerned about the paralysis and wanted to keep her for an hour to take some images. We stepped out for some fresh air, and ten minutes later they called and asked us to come back.
I knew then that we were not bringing her home.
They showed us the X-ray of her neck, and the bone cancer was instantly recognizable. Her neck was full of it. We had to say goodbye.
It was the hardest loss for me.
We fed her cookies until she no longer wanted them. I saw the light leave her eyes. I had never noticed that before, not with our other dogs, and not even during the many euthanasias I had been present for.
Then, moments later, her tail moved. Not a twitch. A full, deliberate wag. Her tail lifted off the floor and curved up over her hip. The vet cried. She said she had never seen anything like it before.
Remember, Maia had been paralyzed for two weeks.
I just knew she was saying thank you.
I still do not think I have forgiven myself for this one. If I had known, I never would have kept her alive for those two weeks. I never would have dragged her back to Alberta. She must have suffered terribly, and that thought still hurts.
I was so angry at the veterinary college. If they had done an X-ray, a CT, an MRI… anything… I would have said goodbye to her then and there. I would never have put her through all of that.
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