Mackie Augustus Akers exited his life as unexpectedly as he entered ours. My heart is forever touched by his existence and forever shattered by his death.  In April 2005, when Mike and I both lived at home with our parents, I made the best impulse "purchase" possible.  While I do truly believe that pet shop puppies only reinforce irresponsible breeding practices, I will never regret our Mackie.  I went to the pet store to get crickets for Mike's leopard gecko and ended up locking eyes with a sweet, lanky boxer puppy.  Mike and I had long talked about getting a fawn male boxer with a black muzzle as soon as we had a place of our own.  Well, puppy love at first sight clouded my judgement and I rationalized that since our closing date was in rapidly-approaching July, our independence was close enough to bring home this puppy.

 After ignoring Mike's "where are you" calls for two hours, I piled myself, this new puppy, and a bag of crickets into the front seat of my little Honda and we headed straight for Mike's parents house. Mike was knowingly pissed that my cricket-run took an hour and fifty minutes longer than it needed to, and started to make his way outside as soon as he saw me turn the corner.  In that moment, his new puppy popped his head high enough that Mike could see him.  Now, I am not an impulsive person by nature.  I am neurotic, analytical, and make contingency plans for my contingencies.  But, the expression in Mike's eyes as he met his puppy assured me that sometimes impulsivity is sublime.  Mike and I were both head over heels for our puppy, and named him Mackie Augustus.  

With Mackie, came many adventures. Our first emergency vet trip was the result of him eating an ENTIRE box of cat litter.  We then had several emergency visits for various skin irritations and uncontrolled bleeding from his ear flaps.  He was also not gaining weight as expected.  While very compassionate, the vet we were using just wasn't qualified to help our Mackie.  We tried another nearby vet, but effectively spent thousands more dollars on more inconclusive tests and treatments.  By chance, when Mackie was 2, a neighbor with a female fawn boxer suggested we try a vet in Third Lake.  After one visit, Mackie was diagnosed with severe food allergies and a white blood cell count of 11.  A normal WBC count for dogs is roughly between 6000 and 18,000.  Mackie had so few, that the lab technician had to manually count them. This started us on a path of testing various foods and medications.  We also went for bi-weekly WBC re-tests and he consistently had frighteningly low counts.  Our vet eventually suggested we stop testing his WBC's, because he was actually improving despite the test results remaining abnormal. So, we lived our lives with Mackie and fed him the few foods he could tolerate. 

He was an amazing puppy that turned into an even more amazing dog. He had an obsession with licking that continued until the day he died.  He loved to give hugs, too. He was a tall boy and would put his front legs on your shoulders and nuzzle his head into yours. Mackie was hesitant to welcome our second boxer into his life, but they eventually became best buds.  He was the greatest protector, but at the same time the gentlest consoler.  He had a noble pose that he would show us if he was in trouble and it would always diffuse any of our frustration.  I cannot call him a fur baby because his existence was grander than that. As long as I kept a hand on him, he would look into my eyes and listen to all of my whisperings and lick away any of my tears. Mackie accepted our babies into our home. He didn't necessarily like sharing the bed or the couch, but was always cautious to not hurt our girls.  

Because of his health issues, there were many occasions over his nearly nine years where I had prepared myself for his death.  Somehow, though, on this day last year, I was blindsided.  My mom had been over with the girls and me.  During that time Mackie was snoozing the morning away on the couch, which was nothing unusual.  Before my mom left to let me put Addy down for a nap, the girls wanted to show my mom our Christmas tree. I prompted Mackie to get up to go outside, but he just ignored me.  I shrugged it off and said goodbye to my mom. I went back to Mackie again and tried once more to wake him up.  He staggered off the couch and just stood staring at me, swaying a bit like he was dizzy.  I noticed that he had soiled himself and so I carried him into the bath tub.  Mackie hated baths so he typically stood rigidly during them.  As soon as he was in the tub, he laid down and stared at the wall.  I knew then that this was more than just a groggy old dog being stubborn.  I called Mike and told him he needed to come home and then called my mom and asked her to come pick up the girls.  By this time, I had pulled Mackie out of the tub and wrapped him in our coziest blanket. I called our vet's office, but unfortunately the vet was out of the office for a few hours, and I knew we didn't have a few hours to wait.  Mackie's body temperature was dropping and his breathing and heart rate changed noticeably.  I called the vet Mackie had seen when he was a puppy and they told us to bring him in immediately.  I nestled my face close to his, told him I loved him and thanked him for so many wonderful years.  He licked me once and then collapsed into the bed of towels I had made for him.

My mom picked up the girls and took them to her house so Mike and I could be together with Mackie.  Mike held Mackie in the back seat, as I drove us to the vet.  They took us right into a room and the vet was with us in minutes. Apparently, Mackie's spleen had ruptured and he was actively dying. In an effort to prevent his suffering, the vet suggested we help make the dying process easier for him. We chose to do so and Mike and I held him as he released his final breath.  

I have lost many pets, but Mackie's death has been the hardest for me.  It is now a year later, and I am still brought to sobs if I see his picture and I am still breathless when enveloped in a memory of him. He was a guardian, a companion, a playmate, but most of all, a best friend.