The Destructive Side

Maggie has an extremely destructive side. I should have seen this coming. Within the first week of getting her home, she tore down the Christmas decorations in my small apartment, running around with tinsel trailing behind her. She went so far as to roll around giddily in the garland. She enjoys being destructive.

Since then, she has eaten a pair of European shoes, countless pairs of underwear, numerous dog toys, and even a steel dog cage. Early in our days together, I would leave her locked in the half bathroom in my apartment while I was in class. I came home one afternoon to find her sitting prettily in the sink. In the SINK. And everything that had been around the sink or on the back of the toilet was smashed on the floor.

These days Maggie is not near as destructive as she was. I don't have to hide my shoes, but I do make sure my underwear lands in the hamper. She finds much more enjoyment in her table dances. I have a lovely glass dining room table that she enjoys climing on top of. Not only does she leave her footprints behind, I have seen her in action myself--just standing there, sniffing around, on top of my perfectly good glass top dining room table.

She so does love tearing things up.

Vacations with Maggie

Vacations with Maggie are always interested ordeals. I learned early on that staying in a kennel is not an option for her. As a pound puppy, Maggie had to be spayed at an early age. When I returned to the pound for this to happen, she climbed so far in the back window that it almost took a crowbar to get her out.

There was another occasion that made me think boarding Maggie was not the best possible option. It was my bad to decide to crate train Maggie without fulling studying the methods, but it was definitely Maggie's bad to pull the throw rug up into the crate in order to chew on it and then bend the bars in order to escape. Again, this was not the dog to send to a kennel for the weekend.

So Maggie has two options. She can either travel with me or she can stay at my parents' house. Based on experience, the latter is definitely the best option. You see, Maggie has extreme separation issues. I've taken her to friends' apartments before, but as soon as we went out for dinner or somewhere else that Maggie could not go, she found something to tear up. We once left her in a bathroom (not a small room) and she tried to claw her way out the door. Even at my parents' house, where she is most comfortable, she once chewed apart several of the vertical blinds in order to see out the window. Severe separation issues.

So Maggie has been on some good vacations. We've spent the day on the Isle of Palms; we've spent the weekend in the mountains. No matter where she goes, Maggie loves to explore everything around her. She is always nose to the ground and petal to the metal. Even at thirteen, no stone is left unturned when Maggie gets to visit a new place. She loves going on vacation and even sometimes rides in the front seat to help navigate.

Noel? Sugar? Will the pound take her back?

I asked for a dog for Christmas in 1997. I had a little bitty scare at my apartment when I was home alone one night that ended up with me driving to my parents' house at 4 in the morning. As a lifelong dog lover, I knew that only a pooch could keep me safe and sound. So I asked for a puppy for Christmas.

It didn't take me long after arriving at my parents' house to hear the whining coming from behind my sisters' door. It did take me a while to sneak away and take a peek at her. She was a writhing, black and white mass of puppy love! Until...her teeth sunk into my finger. Of course, I thought she was so cute that I didn't even care. Oh cute! She's teething! Awwww!

So I closed the door and pretended that I had not met her. We enjoyed our Christmas Eve dinner with the background noise of puppy cries, all the while pretending not to notice. I went to bed that Christmas Eve just knowing that I would get the most perfect puppy in the morning. I had no idea what awaited me.

That Christmas was quite the whirlwind. My sister put her in bed with me that morning and I acted surprised. We all had a good laugh at the whining from the night before. I knew that they knew that I heard, but we kept up the game anyway. They had decided to name her Noel, being that she was a Christmas gift and all, but it took T-minus 10 seconds to learn that a name as peaceful as Noel would not fit the wild thing that was loose in the house. She was all over the place and took a bite out of anything that tried to tame her. I wanted to hold her and cuddle her and make her all mine...she wanted to rule the world in an evil demon sort of way.

My family travels on holidays so we had no choice but to take the new demon dog with us. At that point, Noel was still the name of choice, but I was definitely wracking my brain looking for a more fitting alternative. As we visited grandparents, she left a wide path of destruction. As she chewed into my grandfather's outside stereo wires, I decided that Sugar was probably too sweet of a name, too. She was definitely the sweetest thing I'd seen, but acted like the most feral dog on the face of the planet. The only time she settled down was when I would hold her, but how can you have Christmas dinner with your grandparents that don't want dogs in their home when you have to continuously hold your wild thing of a dog? You can't. Thus the destruction that would cement her reputation.

As I returned back to my apartment that evening, the still unnamed wild thing continued to show how wild she really was. Down with the garland! Down with the ribbons! She ran laps around my little apartment, growling and barking and carrying on like nobody's business.

At this point all I wanted to know was, will the pound take her back?

Maggie May

Dogs have been at every pinnacle and valley of my life. A dog chose to end it all shortly after I was born. One could consider that karmic for a hard future with dogs, but one would be wrong. This is the story of Maggie, aka Little Miss Magnolia Blossom, Magdelena, Maggie May. No matter how you slice it, Maggie has firmly inserted herself into my life's story. This is that story.