Little Songs for Mac

Mac has been gone for over a week now;  last week at this time was the first day that I woke up without his beautiful eyes gazing at me, his pompom tail wagging, his curly head warm and soft.  I miss him so much.

Since he was a pup, I used to sing to him. I even made up little jingles, just for him, and he always recognized his name and nickname in the songs and responded with doggy smiles and a wagging tail and tons of kisses.  When I'd say, "Huh?" he'd come up to me and push his head against my breast or middle, leaning into me with his weight so I could hug him.  He was such an affectionate dog.

This past week has been so hard, but especially at mealtimes.  He was ALWAYS around for food and I shared almost everything with him. I miss him so much.

The other day my Dad locked himself out and rang the doorbell and there was no deep "Woof woof woof!" in response.  Mac said woof like it rhymed with roof, and often said Roof instead. I always asked, "What's your favorite part of the house?" just so he could respond with "Roof!"
Then I'd say, "Your favorite part of the house is the roof?"  And he'd come over, tail wagging, to lick  my cheek or chin or arm or foot. 

I'm going to write down the silly little songs I sang to him, so I"ll never forget them.
Here's one:

"His name is Mac, (here I'd pretend to drum on his back, with a pat, pat) Mac attack (pat, pat), and he's a very, hairy poodle,
His name Mac (pat, pat), Mac attack (pat, pat), and he's a very, hairy, guy.
His name is Mac (fast pat pat), Mac attack (fast pat pat), he's a very hairy guy,
His name is Mac (fast pat pat), Mac attack (fast pat pat), he's my, hairy guy."

Mac would walk up and down beside me, wanting me to pat all of his back while I sang, pretending I was lightly drumming on him. He especially liked the end of his back, near his tail, patted, and would grin and lick me after.

Here's another:

"Who's the black dog with the curly hair?  Boo Boo Bear, Boo Boo Bear,
Who's the black dog with the curly hair?  Oh my Lord, it's Boo Boo Bear.
Boo Boo Bear, Boo Boo Bear, he's the black dog with the curly hair!
Boo Boo Bear, Boo Boo Bear, he's the black dog...with all the curly curly, curly, hair!
His name is Bear!"

Mac loved that one; his whole body used to wriggle when I'd sing and pet his curls when he was younger.  I sang this to him in the truck on our way to the vet last week, but I couldn't help crying as I did.  I was trying to make him feel comfortable and safe and feel bad that I broke down.

Here's the last one:

"MacDermott the dog,
He's the sweetest dog, that I adore,
Every day, I love him more!
He is my dog!
He is MacDermott the dog.
MacDermott the dog,
He's the sweetest dog that I adore!
Every day, I love him more!
He is my dog!
He is MacDermott,
He's not a hermit,
He is MacDermott the dog!"

I know it sounds silly but I loved singing these silly songs for him and just didn't want to forget them. 

His ashes are back.  I picked them up and they are on the stand in the living room, along with the sympathy card that I was given.  I still need to drive to camp to spread his ashes.

Smokey is calling for Annie. She has been all week.  Last week when I came home without Mac she said, "Kathy, where's the dog?"  I said, "Mac's gone to heaven, to be with Annie."  And Smokey has been calling Annie ever sense.  Smokey was raised with Annie, my sweet white miniature poodle, and they lived together for the entire almost 21 years of Annie's life.  Smokey is 26 now, almost 27, a very happy, talkative parrot, but I think she misses the dogs, and grieves them when they're gone.  She's outlived all but little Benji now, plus countless bird friends. It must be hard for her, too.

Ben was looking for Mac too.  He seemed especially confused when I went out for a bike ride the other day and my parents took all of Mac's things and put them away.  Now the livingroom looks empty, without Mac's huge crate and his equally huge dog bed, and his fuzzy matts and mattress and toys.  Yesterday Benji sniffed all around where Mac's bed used to be, then lay down in Mac's spot by the love seat for a little while.

Every time I vaccuum I feel sad that a little bit more of Mac will disappear. It's silly but when I picked the poop I couldn't throw the last piece in the garbage; I hid it in the hedges instead. I know that sounds crazy.

I miss him so much. He was like my child. I've been going for long bike rides, trying to exhaust myself. I"ve been going out with friends, trying to distract myself.  I've been overeating, trying to dull the pain with food.

My best friend's Dad is struggling with cancer and yesterday she came over and said it's the end; it won't be long. I knew it was bad but hadn't known it was that bad, and I feel awful for her.  I can't imagine, don't want to imagine, the pain of losing a Dad.  She said now the best thing would be if he would just go fast, maybe have a heart attack in his sleep, so he won't linger, and suffer.  It seems wrong that we can help alleviate a dog's suffering, like I did with Mac, but we can't do it with humans.  I hope and pray that Laurie's Dad will get better, that a miracle will happen.