I know that I usually write about the boys, however as this blog truly is about family I wanted to take the time to write a tribute to a family member who I am eternally grateful and better for having known…

Everything changes so quickly.  It’s like one minute you are planning your weekend to the minute because you “have so much to do” and then something happens and it feels like there is nothing in the world to do.  That is how it was for us, seven years ago, and that is how it was for us this past weekend. 

Seven years ago, from different cities Johnny and I were both looking at rescuing a dog.  Johnny was determined to find this one particular breed, a Louisiana Catahoula Leopard dog, of which I knew nothing about but went a long with anyway.  When he finally found a litter of puppies that he liked it turned out that they were being scheduled to be put down the very next day.  That day we went to the shelter but a rescue group had already swooped in and taken the litter out of the kill shelter.  After another couple of days trying to track down the puppies, we were on our way down to a farm in the middle of nowhere to see about a dog.  When we got there, there were four puppies.  Two were running after each other, a fat puppy was hiding back in the dog house, and then the fourth puppy was trying to learn how to drink water from a bucket but kept putting his whole entire head in the bucket soaking him and causing him to choke.  It was very clear to Johnny and I that it came down to the fat one who was very cute but a little standoffish and the one that was sticking his head under water and may not have been the brightest crayon in the box.  After hemming and hawing we decided on the one that was sticking his head in the bucket because even if he wasn’t the brightest, he was very friendly.

His paperwork had him named Merlin, but as we drove the 2 hours (which quickly turned in to four hours as we got lost) back to Gainesville, we knew that Merlin just wasn’t his name.  On the drive, in between the dog getting car sick all over me, we debated several names and eventually landed on Miller.  It suited his southern roots and seemed to fit his personality.  Once we got him back to Gainesville we gave him a bath, which he most certainly did not enjoy, and decided that we were NOT going to be the people that let their dogs sleep in the bed, and in stead put him in the laundry and went to bed….thirty second later Miller was scratching at the metal grate in the laundry room, crying and howling and generally making the most possible noise he could in an apartment complex where dogs were not allowed…oops!  We quickly went and got him brought him in the bed and all peacefully went to sleep.

Over the next couple of months Miller quickly began to show that he was not one to be left alone as when he was left to his own devices, he had a penchant for setting off circuit breakers by chewing through wires, eating remote controls, shredding pillows and in general making a mess.  We went through about 5 TV remotes, and were mad when we would get home to find ANOTHER chewed remote, however laugh when we would take him outside and see the number keys from the remote there as proof that he ate it...as if we could ever doubt it. 

Despite the normal puppy badness Miller truly was a good dog and turned out to be quite smart, quick to learn, and eager to please.  Johnny taught him how to ring a bell beside the door when he had to go out, boogie (dance in a circle), say “go gators”, and do all of the other normal dog tricks (stay, sit, lay down) all before he was even 6 months old.  And yet despite all of his goodness we could tell that Miller needed a playmate as his anxiety with being left alone was horrible…lucky for us Dixie came along when Miller was almost a year old and together they were partners in crime and inseparable.

Miller was mischievous about food.  On one occasion while staying at my parent’s house a pan of brownies and raw burgers sat on the counter while the grill got heated up.  In one swoop Miller ate four raw burgers and a half a pan of brownies.  We were so concerned that Miller would get sick, however in true Miller fashion he never let on that he didn’t feel well and would just pace by the door to let you know that he had to go handle the repercussions of his actions.  And then on Thanksgiving a few years back I was making homemade stuffing and had left an entire loaf of bread on the counter to harden.  While watching TV that night Johnny and I looked at each other and collectively asked “where is Miller” as he always lay on the couch with us.  I quickly got up went to the kitchen and saw Miller standing on his two back legs scarfing the entire loaf of bread…Needless to say we had to go to the store the day before Thanksgiving get another loaf of bread and barricade the kitchen off.

Aside from food, Miller also loved to protect his family, and spent most of every day staring out the window making sure that no one came up to the door.  His bark was ferocious to those that didn’t know him, but anyone who did, knew that if you entered our house, welcome or not, you would be greeted with a great big Miller hug (where he would put his paws on your shoulder and lean his face into your face), a trick Johnny loved to hate on.  Miller loved greeting Johnny at the door, and on most occasions would try to bust out of the front door when I announced that Johnny was home.

When Miller WAS mischievous, you knew it was him…I don’t know how it came about but one time after something particularly naughty, Johnny looked at Miller and said “did you do this?”  Miller looked down and a way from Johnny.  Johnny got down in front of Millers downtrodden head and said again, “did you do this?”  Miller quickly turned his head (but didn’t move his body) to look a way. This happened several more times and each time Miller would just look a way as if saying I don’t hear you, I don’t see what you are saying I did.  It quickly became our go to way to figure out who the culprit was: Miller or Dixie.

Miller may have been mischievous, but there is one thing that you could never doubt about him, and that was his love.  Miller would curl up with you as if her were a 5lb dog and just lay there.  When you were sad he could sense it and would just come and lay down with you and just be.  He wasn’t seeking petting or attention he just wanted you to know he was there.  During the time when I worked out of the house, or was pregnant on bed rest at the house, all you would have to say was “Miller lets go to work,” and he would jump up beside you and lay with you the entire day.  And each night as I made my way back to bed I knew that I had a little shadow (ok a big shadow) following right behind me ready to jump in bed and curl right beside me to sleep.  He was the best cuddle bug!

The past seven years have seemed to go by in a flash and Miller was there every step of the way…and usually in the way as he loved to be right by your side never wanting to miss a thing.  He lived in six different houses and two different states and loved life, to please people, his partner Dixie, food, and our family.

When the boys were born Johnny and I were concerned that Miller would feel left out and may start acting aggressive towards them or mean, but in fact the opposite happened.  From the day we brought them home Miller walked right up to them and gave them huge kisses, and then proceeded to follow them wherever they were.  If the boys began crying and someone was holding them, you could count on Miller to stare them down as if to say, “what are you doing to my babies, you better make it better”.  He would sit outside there room when we fed them and stare at us and then down the hallway making sure no one came in, and at night would lay in the bed as we gave the boys there final bottle and did story time. 

Last weekend, almost seven years to the day we got Miller, we found out that Miller had cancer.  It came on suddenly and took him and us by storm.  Three weeks prior we had taken him to the vet because he just hadn’t been acting like himself.  They did numerous tests including a biopsy of one of his lymph nodes and found nothing, no cancer, and we were relieved.  The vet chalked it up to a bad infection and gave us four weeks of antibiotics, but told us that if he wasn’t feeling better in a couple of weeks to bring him back in because it could be something more serious that wasn’t showing up on the tests yet.  This last week after being on three weeks of antibiotics he began not eating, and the lymph nodes in his neck which were barely noticeable three weeks ago were now the size of tennis balls.  We took him back to the vet and they did an x-ray.  Upon looking at the x-ray it was VERY apparent that Miller had a form of cancer known as lymphoma and it was everywhere.  It infiltrated all of his lymph nodes and appeared to be a very aggressive form of cancer as in just three weeks it went from undetectable under biopsy to huge tumors that consumed him.  The vet told us that we could do chemo but that this did not appear to be the type of cancer that would go in to remission as it was very aggressive, and all chemo would do is prolong his life and he would be in pain.  We asked her if we did nothing what would happen, and she told us that because of the placement of the tumors he would eventually be unable to breathe, and would likely go into cardiac arrest.  Clearly this is not what we wanted, but we asked her what else was there and she said that when it was time we could humanely put him down. We asked her how we would know and she listed several signs he would show us that he was ready: not eating (which he was already doing), not wanting to be with the family (which he was already doing), yelping when moving indicating he was in pain (which to that point we hadn’t seen), and then not coming to the door when we got home to greet us.  As we had the boys with us and needed time to process what she had said we took Miller home.  That morning, while Johnny and I were playing on the floor at home with the boys, we looked around the room and noticed that Miller wasn’t there.  We called him several times and he didn’t come into the room….if you know Miller you know that he would normally pop up at the sound of his name (and most days Dixie’s name too) and run in the room.  Johnny and I looked at each other and he stood up to find Miller and bring him in the room with us. 

As Miller came into the room he walked right by us and went and laid across the room and yelped in pain as he laid down….everything changed in that instant, that was it, we never wanted Miller to be in pain, especially not because we selfishly wanted him with us for longer.  To us it was not fair for Miller to feel this way when he didn’t have to.  We certainly didn’t want to punish him by making him go through treatments we knew were painful and delaying the inevitable.  I called my dad to see if he and my mom could come watch the boys, and then we called the vet to let them know we would be in, in a few hours.  The last couple of hours with Miller we showered him with kisses, let him lick the baby food bowls (since that was easy for him to swallow and he enjoyed it), and hugged on him and cried.  We rode with the windows down back to the vet with Miller shotgun in Johnny’s truck like old times, and when it was time Miller went peacefully with his head in Johnny’s lap.  I am sure that some people will not understand this decision, or say that we should have tried treatments, or keep him with us just a little bit longer, but we made the decision we felt was best for him, and although deeply saddened we know that we did what we thought was best for Miller.

In the days after, we have all cried A LOT.  Miller had a way of inserting himself into your everyday activities in ways you didn’t know, until he wasn’t there any more.  He will be severely missed; however I am supremely grateful to have had a dog like Miller, but angry and sad because seven years was not long enough, although I am sure that no amount of time would have been long enough with a dog like Miller.