a feature of the first ten years of my childhood was this: i wanted a dog. we had cats for pretty much my whole life, but a dog? dogs were a different story. dogs, my parents liked to remind me, were a big responsibility. dogs required committment. and committment required work.

at some point when i was 7 or so, my parents struck me a deal: keep your room clean for six months, and you can have a dog. i know this sounds ridiculous now, but at the time it was pretty much like telling me to find the lost city of atlantis. i was never one of those kids who let food rot under feet of old garbage or anything, but i was definitely a creator of clutter. it drove my mother crazy but she persevered in letting it be my space and my decision, the only requirement being that there had to be a clean path from the bed to the door, in case of fire.

i don’t really know how many times i tried to live up to my end of this deal, nor how many times i tried to squeak out of it, but time passed and brought us to the spring of 1990, shortly before i was to turn 11, and my room had been clean for long enough that my dad got excited and went looking for a dog on his own, so victory was assured. and so it was that, right around my 11th birthday, we brought a tiny australian shepherd puppy into our home, and we named her morgan.

we have a picture from those first few weeks where i am holding her in such a way that she fits entirely within the nook of my forearm, and i wish i had that picture here so i could scan it and show it to you. alas, we must settle for a picture from years later, when morgan and i both lived in bloomington for a while, and she retained the playful spirit of her youth even as she began to show the first signs of old age:

morgan was, by all rights, a better dog than she should have been. my parents were right, of course, about dogs being a lot of work, and morgan was a very high energy dog. aussies are whip smart, and as i learned in the research project i did on them in school the year after we got her (it was exciting to have a dog!), they run miles and miles a day when they are actually put to work chasing sheep around. morgan never got this chance (i don’t think there were doggie daycares that offer sheep as a scheduled activity back then), and while she was always well cared for and we did our best to give her “something to think about” (as my mom always put it), she still deserved more time and energy and space than we could usually offer her. nevertheless, she was always happy, playful, and friendly.

unless you were the ups man. she never really understood that whole ringing the doorbell and then not coming in to say hi bit. :)

anyway, as you have most likely deduced, i am writing this post because morgan died today. she has been living with my mom and lloyd in florida, where she still enjoyed walking and sniffing the swampy air, happy in the silent world where she has lived for the past few years since her hearing began faltering. i think she finally thought that she showed the world who was boss and got it to shut up for good. :)

since the last time i saw her – right before i left for scotland last fall – her vision also worsened and the arthritis in her joints progressed steadily, to the point where it was very difficult for her to stand up or lie down. she remained her happy self nevertheless, taking some pain medications and still getting excited for her walks, until just a few days ago when, according to my mother, she stopped eating, began refusing her medications, and lost interest in getting up to go outside. my mom and lloyd did their best to offer her everything she might need, but her message seemed quite clear, and today we decided to help her go to sleep for the last time as painlessly and smoothly as possible. the vet came out to my mom’s house, and my mom says that it was easy and morgan seemed relaxed and comfortable at the end. she was a very respectable 17 years old.

there are a lot of stories that could be told about morgan, and i’m sure i will be telling them for years to come, but for now i will just recount the first time i realized how freaking smart she was, which was only a day or two after we brought her home. she was a tiny puppy, and very bouncy, and she spent a lot of time sleeping. we bought her a bed which we set up in my room, and we brought her to it after it was all set up. we played a little game where we said “morgan, go to bed!” and then put her in it to show her it was hers. we didn’t expect her to remember this; it was just to get us in the habit of repetition and consistency. that night, however, as we grew tired, my dad said something like “well, i guess it’s about time to go to bed!” whereupon morgan perked up her little ears and started clambering up the stairs. my dad and i looked at each other in astonishment, followed her, and sure enough, she had gone straight to bed, and was curled up happily inside.

she was a very good girl, right from the beginning, and we all wish her a peaceful, well-earned sleep.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, July 25th, 2007 at 4:38 pm and is filed under family. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.