It is with an unbelievable heavy heart that I make this post. I am posting out of order, as I have not gotten around to Thanksgiving and Christmas yet, but this post is more important. We lost our beloved Mulligan yesterday afternoon after nine and a-half years. It was a particularly difficult loss for all of us, because we lost her before we were ready. In my heart I know she was ready, or she would not have been acting out in ways that are so opposite to the gentle family member we all knew and loved so much. I also knew she was finding it increasingly difficult to rise from her dog bed to greet us or ask to go for a walk, her stomach was giving her problems and she had terrible lumps all over her beautiful grey body. Still, she had the energy for frequent long walks near our new home under the rims - and loved exploring our new location with Max and Bella - by bike or by foot. We miss those walks now.
Gavin and I brought Mulligan home to our little house at 531 Avenue D Memorial Day weekend of 2002. She was just a pup, and proved to be wickedly intelligent (and also very energetic). She made only one mistake during potty training. The first night she was home, she cried so much that we finally relented and allowed her to sleep with us in our bed. We were relieved when we inherited a used king-sized bed to make more room for the three of us. When we found out we were pregnant with twins, we had no choice but to move her to the floor beside our bed, but there she slept for many years. Speaking of the twins, I'll never forget how gingerly she would navigate those little 5 pounders when we brought them home from the hospital. Told that she would either take to them like a momma or act out, she quickly proved she was going to be their protector. She would lick their foreheads and lay on the floor with them. As they grew, she allowed them to pull on her ears, ride on her back, put ridiculous hats on her head, and otherwise torture her. She never so much as gave them a dirty look. Thanksgiving weekend, she was surrounding by cousins and treated them with the same gentle compassion she has shown her own throughout her life. She loved chasing them in Red Lodge or on walks near our home or just snuggling up to them (and mom and dad) on the floor when we watched t.v.
It is her happy "welcome home" that we now miss. The way her tail would wag in anticipation and welcome, and her mouth would turn into a grin. We miss her "happy dance" when she wanted to be fed or played with (she would dance with her front two paws in rapid succession), her good-morning loves, and the way she would nudge our hands for a scratch when we were sitting on the couch. The kids miss her presence; the fact that she was always with them in the house. They miss walking her and loving on her. I miss my vacuum cleaner - I can't tell you how many times I've been hit with a sudden wave of emotion because there are crumbs on the floor for the first time in 9 1/2 years. How I would now love to be woken up in the middle of the night because she needs to go poddy (or, as it was sometimes, just wanted some midnight loves).
We know Mullie is in a better place - one without any pain. Max asked whether she was with dogs or humans in Heaven - and I think she must be with both. Mullie loved her doggie friends, but she had so much affection and joy for her human friends, I have to think there is someone with her now to scratch behind her ears or kiss her beautiful nose. We love you so much, Mullie, and we miss you. Rest in peace, our beloved friend.
