Maya fell asleep around noon on last Sunday, in the 13th year of her life, after 10 years with us. The house is empty now.

We had lived here for six months when we went to the shelter to look at the dogs. At the second kennel, she came right up to the fence and, with her characteristic “signal,” made it clear that we were a match and there was no point looking any further. We did make the rounds, but of course we took her out for a walk. There was a mandatory two-week thinking period, so I spent two weeks fixing the fence and building a small garden gate. When those two weeks were up, she howled all the way home on the back seat of the car, while Judit kept petting her. She loved riding in cars like that until the very end.

the garden gate, she improved it
The garden gate I mentioned. She improved it ;)

With precision worthy of an atomic clock, she directed us. She knew exactly when we went to bed, woke up, went for walks, the order in which breakfast was made, and when a little scrap might fall her way. Everything had its place in the routine. That helped us a lot, because we can get distracted between any two steps of a task. After a while, she could either read our minds or understand what we said, and although she did not answer in human words, she could answer us. (We bought her buttons, but she never used them. She did not need them: we understood what she wanted from a few elaborate growls and smacking sounds.)

in the woods, without snow

We walked twice every day, in rain, snow, and wind. When it was time, she let us know that we had to go, even when that eventually only meant me hauling her out to the garden in a double harness. While she was active, we went hiking, ran in the woods, attended training courses, and did protection work. She loved that, though I am sure it was not good for her joints. After she dislocated her shoulder, we found out that she had inherited terrible genes for her musculoskeletal system, and after that we tried to take better care of her. Exercise and physiotherapy became more important. She loved those too, and I am convinced they bought her years. Every evening, we had to give her something to do. If we were not doing exercises, we used a snuffle mat, played “doctor,” or simply practiced patience while brushing her. She also took part in six-legged adventures with Judit, with plenty of strange tasks.

in the woods, with snow

At first, she was not very friendly with vets. More precisely, she was very sweet until some instrument needed for the examination came out. When she came to us, she was allergic to some food, chewed at her paws, had diarrhoea, and had discharge from her ears. It took four of us lying on top of her for the vet to be able to look into one of those ears. We managed her allergies well, but her joint problems and related issues (dysplasia, CEC) meant we still went to the vet later on. In her last few years, we found a place where it was not merely that she did not want to kill anyone: we could barely keep her in the waiting room until our turn came, she wanted to get in to see the vets so badly. (So if your dog is afraid of the vet, there is nothing wrong with looking for another one. There are vets who work with a fear-free approach. It is worth trying; the difference is night and day.)

She did not really make friends with other dogs. We think her spine had been hurting for a long time, especially if another dog jumped on her during play. But there were a few respectful neighborhood friends who were not immediately chased away when they came near. Cats, on the other hand, had to be hunted down, whatever the situation.

in a natural pose

Food was everything to her; you could get her to do just about anything with it. If anyone had asked, she would probably have said she had been starving her whole life, even though there was a period when she was carrying a little extra weight. Maybe there was one brief moment when she felt full: one afternoon, we came home to find her lying under the cherry tree at the back, belly swollen and almost unable to move, trying to eat the cherries that had fallen in front of her by stretching only her neck. Though maybe she did not feel full even then :)

in the frosty woods

When I was ill, she stayed home with me and kept my spirits up. Then she took me running in the woods and made me love trail running. Whenever one of us left home, the other was never alone. Since COVID, she was with us essentially 24/7. She slept at our feet, and even if she went out to sun herself, she would ask to be let back in after a short while. We did not often leave her alone for more than three or four hours either.

She watched us constantly. She knew more about us than we did ourselves. And she taught us a great deal, about ourselves and the world.

a little gray around the muzzle already

Little Maya fell asleep, but ten years of adventures remain with us. The house is empty, but everywhere I look, she is still there, and she will be for a long time.