My little Millie girl

Millie
July 9, 1997 – March 3, 2011

My mom, my brother Mike, and I adopted Millie from the humane society on July 9, 1998. She was a favorite of the workers and volunteers because of her sweet disposition and adorable face.  She had been found wandering along the side of the road and had already been transferred from another shelter because no one had wanted to adopt her. We thought she was perfect! She was small, pretty, attentive, and quiet.

It only took a few days for our family to realize that Millie had several issues and severe separation anxiety. She had not been housebroken, had been abused by her previous owners—she still has a b. b. bullet in her ear and in her rib cage—and destroyed the house whenever we left. She was quiet because someone had obviously beaten the bark out of her and hit the floor whenever anyone talked above a whisper or raised their arm. This was more than my mom was willing to handle, and she called the humane society about bringing her back. They said they would have to euthanize her. I pleaded for Millie’s life, and my mom let her stay.

She quickly became my dog—I often walked her or took her to the dog park in Appleton, she slept with me, and I was the person she looked for whenever the door opened. Millie’s condition improved with medication, training, and age.

Millie was not a good dog in that she was a slave to her nose. She couldn’t be unleashed without taking off for hours. She had terrible table manners. No one ever fully trusted her on carpeting. Dog training classes were completely lost on her. We had to build a wooden cabinet to keep her out of the garbage.

Millie was a good dog in that she was always friendly, rarely barked, and always came back home. She never so much as snipped at my toddler son in his entire life. Someone was able, with an enormous number of treats, to teach her to roll over and to shake. She never chewed furniture or shoes or anything else a dog isn’t supposed to chew on. She acted as surrogate mother for our cats Bryce and Maddy and even helped Maddy raise her kittens. Our beagle Eddie adored her and she graciously tolerated him. She fought cancer and won.  She was gentle and loving. When I was 18, she repaid her debt to my mom and saved my life. I literally would not be here today were it not for Millie.

Though it breaks my heart, Millie’s time has come. She no longer got up to greet me. She lost control of her bladder and there was blood in her urine, and her fur was beginning to fall out. In my selfishness, I neglected the fact that my little girl was in pain for far too long. At approximately 3:30 yesterday afternoon, I let my little girl go.

A special thank you to my mom for the financial funding to give Millie the best possible end. Thank you, Mom. Without it, I’m not sure I would have had closure. She went gracefully and humanely.