A Final Salute to a Parting Crew Member

It is with great sorrow that I note the departure of a dear crew member, previously introduced as voyage critic # 1, our beloved Max is with us no more.

He had been diagnosed about 2 years ago with a wide assortment of "old dog diseases" and his prognosis was poor.  He had lost a lot of weight and I often commented that if he got any thinner he would be inside-out.  

After the battery of tests, they merely said that there wasn't a lot to do, but just to love him and monitor him, but that we would know when it was time to end any suffering.  He seemed completely unaware of his illness, and so not knowing that he only had six - nine months to live, he doggedly (I now truly know its meaning) persisted to this very day.

He lived 11 years, and had only just learned to play in the last month and a half.  He would bait me constantly in the evenings with a mouse toy he took from Glory.  He would intentionally place it on my side of Ken's chair, then "defy" me to take it.   He even "nipped" at me, but never actually did more than gently tag my skin with his mouth - no mal-intent, or "bit" at my nose - translate to lick... and growl joyfully at the new game.

This morning while sitting quietly with Ken, he started to go into seizures that lasted around 2 hours before we were able to get a vet.  - The one who wasn't on call. (His partner didn't return the calls to the pager for over 3/4 of an hour, then said that he wouldn't be able to get to us in time, and that we should drive him all the way to Penticton - about 45 minutes away - to the 24 hour clinic... my digression is in sorrow of suffering and terror that should have ended sooner) ... The vet who came was unable to end the seizure, even with valium and finally was able to stop the tremours with anesthetic gas. 

He said it was most likely liver shut down.  The ammonia, being unable to clear the system and blood stream, would then cause the poisoning, and neurological short circuiting that brought on the uncontrollable seizure.  Putting him down was the only kind option.  Even so, he continued to breath in the anesthetic for over a half and hour on maximum flow.  His heart was strong, but the body just couldn't keep pace.

So with a final salute to our fallen comrade, I bid you a sorrowful,

Adieu.