Margaret Elizabeth Tharp, June 6, 2005-March 21, 2017

As soon as Dad got back from the vet, any mementos of Maggie were put away. For now… Things like her bed, made by Serta. Yes, Serta. It was made for arthritic dogs, with memory foam and a short step up.

Her bed was next to the head of mine. That’s why I needed my white noise machine. If she were human, Maggie would definitely have needed a C-PAP machine! But last night: Silence.

It was almost eerie. I kept thinking I saw the shadow of something stocky. And I could swear I heard snoring.

It’s funny how your mind plays tricks on you. I had accepted the fact that my daughter was gone, but I guess my heart hadn’t.

Here is a post from “Pizza and Peonies,” my sister’s blog. I’d like to introduce you to the extremely goofy/quirky/sweet/devilish Maggie. Actually, there are tons more adjectives depending, on who you ask. Not all post appropriate!!

They MUST Have Dogs in Heaven


I’m expecting to get lots of comments for this post as the subject is religion based and it’s a controversial topic. You don’t agree with me? That’s perfectly fine. Maybe we can start a dialogue. You list your reasons against and I will list my reasons.

Maggie’s health is rapidly declining. She has always been prone to skin issues. She went to the vet with yet another skin issue a couple weeks ago, but the vet couldn’t identify it. On the blood work, though, he found something else. My sweet dog is in liver failure.

I know a vet’s goal is to save animals, but when he found a problem with her liver, he had a huge list of treatments. Maggie is eleven! After my soul searching by me watching her, my parents and I have decided that it’s time for the one last trip to the vet L. But it’s for the best. Besides the skin issue, she hasn’t been eating and there has been a stinky mess in my room when I wake up almost every day this week.

With all of our pets, it is Dad who always gets that job but he’s on a business trip right now. It will have to wait three or four days—just enough to spoil her rotten.

Now my question to my readers: Do dogs go to heaven?


My opinion? Heaven is paradise where everything is perfect, right?


How could a place be perfect without our canine friends?


So, it will probably be in fifty or sixty years (Mom’s side of the family lives forever), but I know I’ll be reunited with my sweetheart.

A Walk To Remember

Since the black runt (Pippa, this name for you is used only in love), Maggie’s life has changed dramatically. Although I was only three when Sarah was born, and don’t remember it well, and I felt the same way. Kind of left out.

My aide (who comes four hours morning) and I have been taking Maggi for walks. So she can have some Pippa-free time. The walks have gotten shorter. Maggie is eleven.

This is our usual route: down Garretson, our street, to the elementary school, probably a quarter mile, and back. Although the runt has aged her, Maggie still enjoys sniffing every bush and tree.

This picture was taken Friday. The air was crisp and it was probably 65 degrees. It had rained the previous night, and as you can see, things are extremely pretty afterward. You can’t see Big Bear Mountain, but it’s now covered with snow.


I complain about California, but I guess it beats blizzards in January!


Let Them Eat Whipped Cream!

When I first saw the prompt “cake,” I was going to take a pass on a post. Sure, I like cake, but you can’t write an entire post on how much you enjoy something.

Isn’t it odd how post inspirations come out of nowhere? It’s like some blog genie swoops down and plants an idea into your head. Although sometimes he is MIA, but this morning he was on duty.

Let me set scene. Pippa has enjoyed a couple of what Starbucks calls puppachinos, which is literally whipped cream in a cup. This morning Maria, my aide who helps me in the morning, and I decided that Maggie needed a treat. Sweetie would get a puppachino, too.

But me describing the event wouldn’t do it justice.

Here’s my girl, enjoying a well-deserved treat.


Although Honey will probably need a walk every day this week to burn off the calories, and if there are any vets reading this, they are cringing, doesn’t everyone deserve an indulgence now and then?

Hey, it’s kind of like cake!!

P.S. When it was gone, Maggie was looking for more. Like Mother like daughter.

The Birthday Girl



Sorry–Maggie wouldn’t hold still for a birthday photo.

Today Maggie is 11. Though she doesn’t act it, technically she is 77. Although she would have qualified for an AARP card 23 years ago and countless other senior discounts long ago, my daughter doesn’t act her age. Sure, she has gray on the tips of her ears, but if I didn’t know, I’d never guess her age. She plays with Pippa, often instigating the play like she were still a puppy herself.

How fast 11 years have gone. I was a child of 22 when I got her. Both she and her brother were available. The breeder put both dogs on my wheelchair tray. Sweetie climbed my shoulder, and that was that. I was smitten.

Happy Birthday, Maggie. You’ll always be my pup.

My Daughter


What a character!

Margaret Elizabeth, my birthday girl,

Ten, and ears graying, with white eyelashes,

She sleeps a lot,

And that’s technically seventy,

An aging Corgi,

Yet my baby will always be my little baby,

No matter her age.


Can dogs smile?

Yes they can,

Nub, tail cut off at the quick, nub wags madly,

A glow in her eye,

Upturned muzzle,

A delighted expression on her face,

My daughter grabs a toy,

Thrilled that I’m home.