Maggie the Mutt Meets Her Match

Me (Silvey) and Maggie the Mutt

I've had two great loves in my life, and their paths recently crossed for the first time.

It was a make-or-break moment. The Yalta Conference of my young life.

I think I represent President Franklin D. Roosevelt in this situation, as I work to bring peace during the awkward discussion of how my love and affection will be distributed in a post-LD world.

LD will be Winston Churchill because he says witty things like this all the time:

Bessie Braddock: "Sir, you are drunk."
Winston Churchill: "Madam, you are ugly. In the morning, I shall be sober."

And Maggie shall represent Joseph Stalin, because she is the only one of us with a mustache, and she believes in equal distribution of people food to dogs.

I've already introduced you to my boyfriend LD, who is absolutely wonderful. Although no one is perfect, he is pretty darn great - intelligent, handsome, supportive and quirky.

But he does have one fatal flaw.

He hates dogs.

"I don't hate dogs, I just don't want one in my house."

He's a liar. Here is an example of one of our recent dates:

Comic courtesy of www.nedroid.com

On the other hand, dogs are the light of my life.

And Maggie is my Sun in a galaxy of far-off twinkling stars.

Before we move on, you need a little more background on my relationship with Maggie the Mutt.

Our story begins a decade ago, under a dumpsty dumpster in East L.A. where a stray airedale terrier (sounds more like a Beverly Hills alley breed to me...) had just given birth to puppies. Those puppies, matted and hollow, were soon rescued and taken to the local animal shelter.

2,700 miles away, a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed 18 year old was starting her Freshman year of college in Washington D.C. She stood outside her dorm, smiling and waiving at her parents as they drove away towards the airport. Oh, what fun she would have now that her track-obsessed father and grades-obsessed mother were 48 states away. She was free...FREE to eat all the Doritos in the world!!!!!

That's when the sobbing began. Right there on that corner. I was truly alone for the first time in my life and self-doubt swelled up inside of me. What now? I miss Hawaii. I miss...gasp...running on the track with my Dad and going to the grocery store with me mom. I want a re-do.

Back in Los Angeles, where my family moved a week before I left for college in our nation's capital, my parents missed me too.

So, they went with the popular solution for many-a couple facing an empty nest for the first time: Let's replace our kid with a dog!

My mom, who is confined to a wheelchair, wanted a lap-dog so she could play with her and pet her easily - a therapy dog in a way. My Dad wanted a big, tough dog that he could roughhouse with and run with up at the track...so fitting.

They went down the the shelter and saw the little terrier mutt. For my Dad, it was a resounding "absolutely not." He wasn't going to spend the next 15 years walking a 12 pound terrier around the block and listening to the commencement of 2 hour yipping sessions at sight of the mail truck.

As they drove home on the 405 Freeway, my mom gave my dad the silent treatment. Not one word was said on that 45 minute drive. You could cut the silence with a rawhide chew.

And then, as my Dad took the final right-hand turn into our driveway, the sobbing began.

"I just have to have that dog! She was the cutest and sweetest little thing in the whole world! Didn't you see the size of her paws?! She's not going to be a little yappy dog! I guarantee it!!"

"No. She's not for us. She's a little frou-frou dog. We're not having a little frou-frou."

My Dad began to get my Mom's wheelchair out of the trunk and brought her walker over to the passenger side of the car.

"I refuse to get out of this car until we drive back to the shelter and bring that puppy home," my mom, a retired actress, exclaimed dramatically as she clenched on to the door handle.

A staring contest ensured.

And TAA-DAA!!!

Meet Maggie the Mutt!! She recently turned 10 years old.

"W-A-L-K?!?"

(BLOGGERS NOTE: I think it's pretty clear at this point in the blog that my straight-talking, retired Army officer, tough-as-nails father is a saint: dealing with the antics of a bull-shitting, emotionally fragile daughter; a paraplegic trained actress wife; and my older sister (who you have yet to meet, but she certainly gave the umbrella wielding, shaven-head version of Britney Spears a run for her money for more than a decade.)

So Maggie has been with me and my family through thick and thin for a decade now - and at 50 pounds, she's not the frou-frou dog my Dad projected.

I spent every summer home from college raising her. She's snuggled my tears away through much heartbreak and many serious life challenges. When I come home to visit these days, she literally has a full body spasm and runs up and down the block several times after covering me with licks and scratches in all her excitement. And when I start packing to depart back to Washington, she smells the betrayal of it all from a mile away and refuses to come to the front door to bid me adieu.

I once was in such a rush to the airport that I forgot to find Maggie to say goodbye to her. I asked my dad "do you think Maggie is sad I forgot to say goodbye?"

"Are you kidding? She sure as hell is!"


I felt guilty for weeks.

Here are some Maggie the Mutt stats:

• She has a purple tongue;
• She HATES other dogs, but loves every person she's ever met;
• She shows her love through incessant licking;
• She only knows one trick: Shake. And she never stops shaking. EVER. It's literally all she does and she switches paws incessantly.
• She doesn't bark often but she sorta talks to you quietly when she wants attention: "arrfff rowr rowr ruurrruru wooof rawwaarr arf."
• She has an anxiety disorder (runs in the family??) and has doggie Xanax. She won't eat if anyone is watching her - even dog biscuits.
• She likes to spoon and sighs loudly when you hug her.
• She won't eat her dog food anymore and goes on hunger strikes, so my mom cooks her chicken thighs every night and mixes them with her food. She doesn't eat it until we're all asleep.
• She won't fetch. She'll run to the ball, stuffed animal, squeaky toy, etc. with passion - look at it - and then just turn around and run back to you. Then she sits down and shakes your hand. It's sorta annoying.

"Maggie Fetch!"

"Woof Woof Shake?!?"

So as LD and I began our 2,700 mile flight across the country, I had a secret wish in my heart that my boyfriend of a year and a half would fall head over heels in love with my Maggie. Only then could we think about taking out relationship to the next level.

What about my parents' opinion you might ask?? I knew LD didn't pack his "SOCIALIST" t-shirt, so I wasn't too concerned that they'd make him sleep on the neighbors front lawn.

When we got to my parents' house, it was nearly midnight, and all was quiet except for the moths buzzing around the porch light.

"Watch! Maggie is gonna freak out and we open the door! She'll be so happy!"

We were greeted by silence.

" Hi....We're home! Maggie?"

...rustle rustle....pitter patter of paws....full-out sprint!!

"MAGGIE!!"

SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE,  JUMP!! LICK! LICK! SHAKE! 

"Arrfff rowr rowr ruurrruru wooof rawwaarr arf!!"

...looks over to LD.

Sit. Shake.

Maggie the Mutt was skeptical. LD shook politely and went to wash his hands with anti-bacterial soap.

The next morning we took Maggie for a walk around the block before starting our day filled with fun touristy Los Angeles activities. While walking up the street, LD said "I have a question. How do you pet a dog? Like, I just rub her back. Can I pat her head also? It that correct? Should I do it in a certain direction?"


I couldn't help but laugh my ass off. My top-10 law school educated attorney of a boyfriend really just asked that question.

"Are you serious? You just pet her. Like, scratch her back and ears and rub her tummy. Just pet her however you want."


Well, at least he was showing interest!! Good - idiotic - start.

From that day forward, LD worked on his dog petting abilities and Maggie decided he was her new best friend. She'd push open the bedroom door and wake him up in the morning.

She'd sit there staring at him with her tongue out and her paw up on the mattress....shaking. If it didn't elicit response, she'd switch paws.

"She's always so expectant," LD said. Of what, who knows...

When he showered, she'd sit outside the bathroom door waiting for him to come out. She used to do that for me. What the heck?!

When he worked on his computer, she got comfy on the floor right next to his chair, staring at him expectantly for 30 minutes at a time.

"I think Maggie has a crush on me," LD said.

"Don't flatter yourself." 

By the end of the trip, LD actually said - and I would like to insert this into the record - "Maggie is great. I think I might actually like dogs now."

ALLELUIA-ALLELUIA-ALLELUIA-AAAA LEEEE LUUUU IIAA!!!

As we got ready to go to the airport, I caught this great candid of Maggie the Mutt and LD enjoying a good firm hand-shake amongst friends.

LD and I loaded up our awesome red Sebring Convertible rental car after a wonderful trip filled with Rodeo Drive, bizarre foods, beaches, haunted ships and the rarest and most delectable beef in the world.

As we hugged and kissed my parents goodbye (who happened to really love LD!!), I saw a little smiling furry face peeking around my mom's wheelchair.

To my surprise - for the first time in recent memory - Maggie wanted in on the goodbye action too!!

With a few good shakes, some hugs and a lick, she smiled at us (see above photo for example :P) as we walked out the door.

I think Maggie the Mutt is content knowing that now when I leave her, I finally have someone in Washington who takes care of me and loves me just as much as she does.

Now we'll just have to work on the fetching.