Just a Dog

It’s not that I hadn’t heard it before, but yesterday, when I heard the words, “She was just a dog,” they really pierced my heart.

She was “just a dog.”

But she was also the stitch that finally healed my heart after the passing of my previous dog.

She was the protector of my kids (and the whole family) once she found her voice several weeks into coming home with us.

She was a mischievous thief of loaves of bread left on the counter or freshly baked blueberry muffins not yet placed in a sealed container.

She was a fence scaler at doggy day care, unwilling to be left for several hours to socialize while her mom tried to see patients.

She was a natural-born swimmer.

She was a walking companion, preferably off-leash, but always in the lead.

She was a squirrel chaser and a crow hater.

She was a world-class sprinter, but only in pursuit of her ball.

She was a sous-chef, always happy to sample anything the chef had to offer.

She was a nudger, quick to remind me to offer her something from my cutting board.

She was a cuddler.

She was a kisser.

She was patient, especially with children who wanted to lie next to her, smother her with affection, or dress her in costumes.

She was a quiet muse, never more than a foot away while I composed essays and later novels.

She was a hugger, quick to rest her head on a lap and lean her weight on the lucky recipient.

She was always there to greet me at the door, tail wagging, and excitement in spades.

She was a best friend, a harbor in any storm, a shadow, and a mood lifter every-single-time.

She was a therapist to anyone who needed to talk, her deep brown eyes attentive and understanding.

She was a black-furred beauty unfazed by the streaks of grey that patterned her coat each year.

She was stoic, never wanting to show vulnerability, only strength.

She was an amputee in her last few months, but still happy to chase her ball shorter distances and wrestle with her toys.

She was a fighter, unwilling to give up and leave her family, even when her body couldn’t go on.

She was selfless and loyal.

She was all heart and soul until her last breath escaped.

She was family.

She is gone.

She is now in my heart and soul, which I know will never be enough.

She is and always will be my Maggie.

Maggie Goldstein—October 15 2015-June 24, 2026