Morgan

Our week got off to a rough start.  We had to put Morgan to sleep Monday morning.

She was almost 11 years old and for a Great Dane to not only live that long but live that long without any major health issues?  Props to her owners for keeping her in such great shape.

We had her smaller size on our side.  My dainty Dane rarely weighed more than 105 pounds, which helped her joints.  We treated her for pneumonia in the past 6 months and she had one other major illness in her lifetime but otherwise, she was as healthy as a you-know-what.

We adopted Morgan from the Mid-Atlantic Great Dane Rescue League.  She was four months old at the time and was one of three sisters given to the Rescue by a breeder who had saturated her market with Great Dane puppies.  The volunteer who took the puppies in said her husband only agreed to fostering three puppies if he got to name them.  The foster mom thought that was a fair deal and that’s how she ended up with Sky (as in the vodka), Harp (the beer), and Morgan (after my favorite: The Captain!).  It was fate, I guess.

Morgan wasn’t the most exciting dog, but that’s what we wanted: a gentle giant who liked walks but who wasn’t exploding with energy.  She was more like a cat in her needs for human interaction as she was perfectly happy to just lay on her bed, preferably in the sun, for the better part of the day.  Even from the beginning, she wasn’t overly needy; she definitely wasn’t a Velcro dog like I’ve heard so many Danes can be.  However, she did have “the lean” down to an art.   For those of you who haven’t met a Dane, they like to lean against your legs and be petted.  You have to be ready for this move because even a smaller dog like Morgan can knock you over if you aren’t prepared to accept their weight.

Morgan also had a habit of going between people’s legs.  She may not have been the tallest Dane around, but she took quite a few people by surprise with her trick.  Right, Mom?

Morgan was spoiled in that she always had to have a bed to lay on.  If the sun was just right and I wasn’t moving her bed to where she wanted it, she’d sigh, give me a dirty look, and lay on the floor, but she preferred to always have a bed between her and the ground.  When she laid down with her legs tucked up against her body, she looked like a much smaller dog and, well, I guess she was as you can see by how she squeezed her Great Dane body into a bed for a Boston Terrier.

Besides being my dainty Dane, I also called Morgan my Dane-a-roo.  Back in her younger days, she would get excited and jump up.  She wouldn’t jump on anyone.  She literally just jumped straight up into the air.  Silly puppy.

I know she’s now enjoying laying on a fluffy bed in a warm sunny spot as often as she likes.  The icing on the cake is not having to walk on any gumballs.  Those things used to get stuck between the pads of her paws, and she’d have to limp up to the back door so we could get them out for her.

Goodbye, old girl.  Give Tucker a hug from us.