Rest In Peace, Sir Max

This is a poetic essay I wrote several weeks ago for my grandpa's darling dog, Sir Max. He passed away this morning. May he rest in peace. 

     Max was my first real best friend. I met him when I was very young, so young that one of my first memories is of tightly hugging him. He squirmed away from me, only to come back and give me his own embrace. 

Max taught me unconditional love. He treated me with unwavering respect, even though I was a little girl with thin pigtail braids and I always skinned my knees on the concrete when I came over to where he lived. He didn’t care when I got bigger, and he didn’t mind when I stopped growing. He still greeted me with a kiss on the cheek when I got my first little zit. I returned the love, admiring the way he snored when he slept next to me, and they way he could fall asleep anywhere—he truly had a talent for sleeping—and we stayed pals even when I started going to school and met girls who I called my best friends.

He didn’t complain when I started to wear dark eye makeup and loudly listen to rock music, he just rocked along with me. He didn’t complain when I started to spend more time reading books than playing with him outside—he was getting older, too, after all. He let me cry into him when I didn’t get a part in a school play, and when my mom was mad at me for sneaking around behind her back. 

He never made fun of my hair when I dyed it purple, and he was the only friend who didn’t think I was weird when I stopped in the middle of conversations to just listen to “Imagine” by John Lennon(I never feel comfortable with conversation when that song comes on).

I remember once I came home from school and he was so excited to see me he ran out the front door and hugged me before I even made it to the driveway. I remember he liked to steal cookies from the table, and even though no one said anything to him we all knew it—that was just another thing to love about him, for me. 

Max has always been an understated hero. He doesn’t have a flashy cape or a badge or a supermodel girlfriend. He came into the world armed with nothing but love and hopeful eyes that made anyone melt. He could put anyone’s guard down when he kissed their cheeks and slowly stole their hearts, just like the cookies. 

Max, my best friend, is a fluffy black shi-tzu poodle, and I will always regard him as one of my greatest heroes, even when I can no longer hold him in my arms, which I know will be soon. 

I didn’t have to think twice about still loving him when his fur started to turn gray and his legs started to give out in the cold. When people started to say he’s getting old, don’t surprised when he’s gone, he’s just a dog. He is just a dog. And I love that dog, just as much as he loves me.