It was an average day in June of 2007 when I met a dog named Brandy. I’d been at work when I received a call that there was a one-year-old Black Lab mix that was in a kill shelter a little over an hour from where I lived. A rescue group was working tirelessly to find her a foster family so she wouldn’t be put to sleep. Having worked with rescue groups most of my life, I understood the need and the desperation. Large, black dogs tend to be the last to get adopted. Brandy was living on borrowed time.
Being newly married with no kids and a husband away on a week-long trip, I decided to bring her home with me. I was bored and needed a project, and training a rescue fit the bill for me. I figured I could clean her up, do some basic house-training, and get her adopted before my husband came home. That didn’t happen.
Brandy stayed with us for almost a month before a call came in that someone was interested in her. By that time, she’d wiggled her way right into our little family. She’d even managed to get a spot in our bed. So we said no, paid the adoption fee, and changed her name to Addison. I called her McGee, just to be difficult.
Addison was a good dog, super smart, but she was a typical young Lab. She got into trouble. I once came home and wondered how it could have possibly snowed inside my apartment only to find out Addison had chewed a hole in our duvet and dragged the stuffing all over the place. She ate my favorite red pumps and peed on my favorite rug. She left weird lick spots on our couch. And yet, she was the best dog.
Addison was a gentle soul, kind and loving. She guarded my babies like a second mother, even shoving between a baby Mini and her great aunt one weekend. Apparently great aunts weren’t allowed to hold her new baby. When we moved out of our apartment and into a house, we picked the one with the biggest yard. “Think of how much Addison can run,” my husband said over and over as I lamented how much work the house needed. The large yard won out, but Addison couldn’t run too much. Arthritis in her hips took that particular joy away, not that she seemed to mind. She still loped after the kids and made sure they were safe or spent the afternoon lounging in the sun. I called her lion dog, and she rolled around scratching her back on the grass.
I’ve seen my dog be pounced on by a toddler and do nothing but give me the “help me out here” eyes. I’ve seen her snarl and bark like the attack dog I knew she could be when someone walked too close to our fence while our babies were playing in the yard. I’ve seen her charm someone terrified of dogs into giving her treats and head pats.
And this morning. I saw the light drain out of her eyes as she let me know that her time had come. But I’m stubborn, see. I never give up without a fight. So I hauled her into my car with the help from a neighbor and raced the almot-hour south to the vet only to find out she’d passed on the way. Damn dog had gotten me to give her one last car ride, something she loved.
Addison McGee was my beloved dog, my first baby, and I will miss her with every ounce of my heart. My husband wasn’t in town when I brought her home, and he wasn’t in town when she left us…talk about coming full circle. Blessings to all the furbabies out there, especially the rescues who seem to have so much love to give if they could just find their forever homes.
Thanks for being such a great friend and partner, Addison MGee. I’ll see you when I see you.
As I sit here with tears in my eyes grieving with you for your loss, I would like to take a moment to commend you for your dedication to the rescue efforts of unwanted animals. So many loving souls have their beautiful light of life extinguished each and every day in shelters around the world. In my sixty three years of life, I have rescued and found homes for two hundred unwanted animals. Of the two hundred, I kept twenty until they each died of old age. The financial cost has been great but the reward in terms of their love, loyalty and dedication has been incalculable. I salute you, my friend. The memory of such a dedicated friend will never dim. Each and every one of my rescues still hold a very special place in my heart and I’m sure yours will as well. My thoughts are with you and your family.
Judy Lewis
jlswainsboro@aol.com
As I read the heartwarming story of your wonderful time with Addison, I cried. I too had a very good friend with a black lab that passed years ago. Bernice wasn’t mine, but a friends. She would houdini her way out of their yard and visit me daily. We had many an afternoon nap of the sofa with my dog, Dani, a cocker spaniel and my furious kitty, Miss Molly! I know how hard the next few weeks will be for you and your family and I send you love and prayers at this sad time.
Take good care,
Carol
Once again you have reduced me to tears. My heart goes out to you and your family for the loss of Addison McGee. Know this, Addison has crossed the Rainbow Bridge where she runs and plays on the green grass of the biggest yard of all. She’ll be there waiting for you when your time comes, until then she is happy and without pain.
(((HUGS)))
Pamela
I’m so very sorry for your loss! Just a little over a month ago, I lost my cat of 15 years or so. I shared him for many of those years, but the last six, it was just the two of us, which made the house all the more lonely once he was gone. But as the ladies before me have said, these animals have enriched our lives, shown us so much love, and they will forever reside in our hearts and memories. Know that I’ll be thinking of you, your family and your beautiful Addison.