I was lucky enough to get Morgan as a Christmas present when I was 12. My mom put a dog bone in my Christmas stocking and told me that we should go find a dog that would enjoy it. This led us on a 6 month journey to find the perfect dog. On May 27th, 1997, our journey was complete. We followed a C.A.R.E. listing to a home with two puppies born on March 25th, a boy and a girl. We had wanted a boy. Had a name all picked out (Homer). But when we got to the home, this baby girl was placed in my arms and immediately started licking my face. We were told she was the smarter of the two. She was not the prettier of the two, as her brother was black and adorable. It didn't matter though, I was sold. I turned up to my mom and said I want her. And then we got to bring her home.
The naming process was a long one. We made a big long list of all the names we would want to name her and then had to pick our final 2 which we would vote on. Mom's was Amore and something else equally lame. Mine were Cookie and Pebbles. Dan's was Kimberly (after the pink power ranger) and Morgan (after Geena Davis in Cutthroat Island). Mom though naming a dog after the town you lived in was cool and therefore won. At first I vowed not to call her Morgan, but eventually I came around.
Morgan was my dog. She was the family dog, but she was really my dog. She slept on my bed every night. She would always come to me when my brother and I would have a contest calling her to each of us seeing who she would go to. I took her on walks. I took her to the dog park with my friend Brian. I gave her baths. Hugs. Flower leis as collars.
One time when I took her to lake with my friends I was swimming across it I look back and saw Morgan swimming after me. She couldn't bear to be apart from me for that long. Once she caught up she tried to climb up on my back. It was hard but I got the both of us over to the other side. It was one of those times that I realized how much she cared about me.
Whenever I was upset, Morgan had a sixth sense about it. She would come up next to me and let me know she was there for me. She came up next to me and just sat as I cried. Not begging for attention or anything, just letting me know she was there. It was the most amazing thing.
Then Morgan starting getting old. We were scared there wasn't much time left for her. To help ease the process we adopted Butters, a maltipoo. This actually helped breath new life into her. She was playful again. Running around. Youthful. It was wonderful. For this reason alone, I will always be thankful for him. It was not meant forever. Slowly she was losing ability to walk. On Friday when I went to visit she had gone from 3 working legs to 2. She could barely hold her head up. Mom told me she'd been whimpering the last few days and wouldn't come in from outside. We knew it was time.
We got a vet appointment and took her in sobbing all the way through. In the waiting room my mom talked to the front desk as I made hazy eye contact with the cataract filled eyes of my once playful pup. She gave me one last kiss.I held on to my sweet puppy as the vet gave her something to put her to sleep. She said after she fell asleep we could leave her there and they'd finish the job. I told her we needed to be the through it all. Morgan slowly faded to dream land in my arms, my brother Dan petting her head, and my mom crying at the door. The vet put in the fatal needle as I wanted to scream I changed my mind and wanted to keep her around. I didn't though. I knew that would be selfish. I knew Morgan needed to move on.
After she had past we put her on the table. Staring at her lifeless body, tears running down my face I was glad I didn't wait til this site awaited me at home. Her death involved her favorite person holding her and her other favorite petting her and staring into her eyes, both of us repeating over and over "Good girl. We love you so much." It's the kind of death I want to have when I'm 105 (which is what she was in dog years). I'm so lucky I haven't lived with her these last 3 years. When I come home to work I'm still greeted by 3 kitties, one of who is laying on me as I type this. I can still pretend Morgan is happily playing at my folks house. I'm sure she is in Doggie Heaven. And when I go, I know I'll see her again.
I made a promise to her on her death bed to never love another dog as much as I loved her. That's a promise I feel confident that I can keep.
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