Happy Birthday

In July 2000, my second daughter, Macey, was born near Rockport, Indiana.  She was great.  She helped keep my first daughter, Murray, young by fighting with her and chasing her all over the place.  In December 2000, Macey had been feeling lethargic.  A couple days later, she seemed to be fine, back to her old self.  While playing with her one day at lunch, I noticed she had what appeared to be a small hole in her stomach.  I called the vet and they figured she'd been bitten by something, an abscess had formed making her lethargic, and when the abscess popped open, relieving the pressure, she felt good again.  However, since there was a small hole in her stomach, they wanted me to bring her in.

They gave her antibiotics.  She had an allergic reaction, died on December 16 and I buried her a couple days later.  I still think of her daily and miss her a lot.  I never understood why it happened, only concluding that she was such a good girl that God was ready to play with her.  

I think God soon realized he took her too soon, because on December 20, 2000 Morgan was born.  

Today is Morgan's birthday.  She would have been 12.  

Morgan had more style than any dog I've had, as evidenced by the picture above.  Not that I played favorites, but Morgan was special in her own way.  She completely ran our house and if you didn't fall into line, you were forced to deal with her.  

I went to look at her in February 2001.  Her litter was the third I'd seen and I think she more or less picked me.  I wanted a female and a smallish sized dog.  Of her litter, she was one of two ladies and by far the smallest.  Each time I put her down to play with her sister, Morgan would come over and untie my shoes.  This happened three times before I decided she was the one.  Murray wasn't too excited about a new sister, but Morgan grew on her (or forced her will onto Murray, I'm not sure which).

A year or so later, Jennifer and I bought a new house and we combined my two dogs with her one dog that had been living with her parents.  Early on there was a feeling-out process and Morgan was the smallest by far of the three.  However, it didn't take long to see who the alpha dog was at our house.

One of the first instances took place when we'd let the dogs out in the backyard.  Murray and Morgan would immediately take a leak, only to have Jennifer's dog walk over and piss right on top of where one of the dogs had just pissed.  Over the next few days this behavior continued.  It ended one day with me laughing hysterically as Morgan showed the two larger dog whose house they were living in.  Murray was the first to take a piss in the yard (Murray was so sweet, never wanted to hurt a flea, never considered herself a dog and usually didn't play in these stupid dog games).  Morgan went right over to where Murray peed and took a whiz right on top.  Jennifer's dog followed suit, and that seemed to be the end of it.  Wrong.  Morgan went right over to where the three dogs had just pissed, made sure the two other dogs were watching, and dropped a huge deuce on top, effectively setting the chain off command.  In looking at her as she pranced off, her glare to the two other dogs said, "Top that, bitches."

We were treated to this kind of behavior for another 9 or so years.  She only lived slightly more than 10 years as congestive heart failure eventually took her down.  But, those years were such a joy, and Morgan was such an amazing girl that I still haven't fully accepted that she's gone.  Not a day goes by that I don't think of her or talk to her.  I've got a fourth daughter at home now, Memphis, and half the time when I'm yelling at her for being bad, I call her Morgan.  I never call her Murray or Macey, always Morgan.  

Several times a week, Jennifer, Hayden or I will talk about Morgan.  I pity poor God for having to deal with her for the last couple years.  I wonder how many times each day He utters the phrase, "MORGAN!!!  Really?"

Happy Birthday, Girl.