Over the final three weeks of Max’s life, I consulted multiple veterinarians and a dog neurologist, trying to understand what was happening and whether he could get better. Without an MRI, there was never one clear diagnosis — only possibilities.
He may have had vestibular disease.
He may have had a brain tumor or lesion.
He may have had doggie dementia, or mini strokes.
Most likely, it was some combination of them.
What we did know was that something was happening in his brain. He was old. Max was 17 years, 9 months, and 25 days old. His body had carried him through nearly eighteen years of loyalty, love, and companionship, but his brain was no longer working the way it once had.
There were moments when I believed he might improve — because he always had before. Max had always bounced back. He was a strong, resilient little dog, and that history made it hard to accept that this time was different.
During those weeks, Max continued to eat and drink, take peaceful naps, and signal to me when he needed to go to the bathroom. His tail was never down. He never panted. He never screeched in pain when I picked him up or moved him. But the barking and whining episodes were frequent and usually long. They always stopped temporarily — sometimes permanently — when he ate or when we went outside, and he always took a nap afterward. It was around 5 degrees or below, and snow was everywhere, so we couldn’t stay out there for very long. We went outside as often as he wanted, but only stayed a few minutes each time. Every time we went outside, his tail wagged back and forth.
Max had almost always been a picky eater, and as time went on, he wanted less soft dog food. I tried eight different soft foods, but his diet during this time was mostly foods he loved — salmon and boiled beef, watermelon and treats. I had to feed him by hand.
When I held the water bowl to his mouth, he always drank — about 8 to 10 times a day — and he never stopped drinking on his own. I had to stop him every time.
I think certain foods and water made him feel better while he was eating and drinking. There were four things he never turned away from — watermelon, water, shredded pieces of Tillamook Cheddar cheese, and Greenies. Watermelon was his favorite. It was cool, hydrating, tasty, and easy for him to enjoy.
That’s likely why he drank steadily — it probably made him feel better, even if temporarily. I read that cool water can soothe neurological discomfort like pressure, dizziness, or internal agitation. The watermelon did that too.
I knew I couldn’t give him too much cheese, but he loved shreds of Cheddar. Dogs also love Greenies, and just like my last dog who passed from old age, Max ate his Greenies right up until the end.
Max peed and pooped normally. He didn’t have a single bad bowel movement in his last three weeks— everything was solid and healthy. His brain was failing, not his organs. He still knew how to communicate his needs. He was able to wake me up in the middle of the night to let me know he needed to go to the bathroom. He did not have accidents in the house.
What wasn’t working properly was his balance. Walking on his own became impossible because he always veered to the right. With a harness, though, he could still walk. I gently guided him to the left while he pulled to the right, and it worked. But our wood floors were slippery, so I also had three different strollers for him. I pushed him wherever I went so he could still be with me and experience the world around him. He slept peacefully in those strollers, with blankets, and let me know when he wanted out.
If he had vestibular disease, I thought he could get better. I didn’t want to put him to sleep too early.
After 3 weeks, he should have gotten much better. But he didn’t. He still had his barking/whining flares several times a day. But even in the middle of them, he would stop barking to eat and when we went outside. Unfortunately, we could not stay outside long because it was so cold, snowing, and we had 6-12 inches of snow.
If Max had stopped drinking, stopped eating, started panting, not been able to sleep peacefully, had his tail down, or started having accidents in the house, I would have known sooner.
Dogs who are truly at the end usually lose the ability to drink, eat, or communicate their needs. Max didn’t lose those things. He kept drinking. He kept accepting food by hand. He kept enjoying watermelon and Greenies. He kept waking me up to go outside. He stayed connected to me.
When Max had a second seizure, I knew. I knew it was time — and maybe even past time — but I had to give him a chance.
We went directly to the nearby emergency vet at about 7:30 p.m. He wasn’t well after this seizure. After his first seizure, he had eaten, drank, and acted better within about ten minutes. One seizure can sometimes be a one-time event, but two seizures usually indicate an ongoing, serious neurological problem in older dogs. I was not going to make Max live like that.
For a few seconds while we were driving slowly, I rolled down the window. Max indicated he wanted to feel the air. I held him slightly out the window like I had so many times before. For that short moment, he straightened his body, stopped crying, and took it all in.
Soon after, we pulled into the parking lot. Max and I went inside. I had to complete the paperwork while I held my poor Max. It wasn’t ideal for his final moments. But after the first injection, the pain was gone. Max finally relaxed. He slept peacefully — breathing like a normal, comfortable dog. I held him on my lap for about 20 minutes, telling him everything I needed to say. I could have sat there forever.
Then it was time for the final injection.
It hurt him for just a moment. He let out a small squeak — only for a second. The vet, her assistant, and I all huddled around him, gently petting him, surrounding him with love.
I felt his breathing slow.
I felt his heart stop.
And then he was gone.
Since he passed, I’ve gone through more than 6,500 photos and videos of my dogs. I’ve already ordered photo mugs, a photo pillow, and over a hundred printed photos from Personalization Mall and Mpix — small ways to keep them close and remember the life we shared.
Life is better with Max, and I will love and carry him with me for the rest of my life.
I hope — more than anything — that there is a heaven, or an afterlife. And I hope that when we cross over, the very first thing we see is all the animals we’ve loved, running toward us — healthy again.
For nearly 18 years, my loyal and faithful companion Max was either on my lap or lying close by. When I worked on my website for the past 17 years, 9 months, and 25 days (minus six weeks before I got him), he was there for all of it. No matter how dark, chaotic, or exhausting the news and media became, I could always look over and pet that precious dog who somehow made everything feel better.
Max was a Trump supporter and voted — mainly for treats, playing fetch, watermelon, salmon, beef, and naps.
