Losing Maizy — Summary

Maizy the terrier had always traveled in circles — around the park, around the block, around the garden — but toward the end her circles tightened drastically till they occupied no more than a corner of the kitchen. She no longer recognized her own front door and became utterly lost. Except, it seems, on the lap of her life-long companion, my partner Rachel. Her fits become more frequent and prolonged, each time leaving her a bit more impaired. Finally Rachel made the agonizing decision to have her euthanized. She found a vet who made house calls, and when the time came, held Maizy as if she were an infant while the drugs kicked in. Rachel said she felt her relax all over, and then, a few seconds later, simply stop breathing.

windy sidewalk a spiral of leaves lying down at my feet

It was hard not to be there with them in London. We’ve been crying a lot over Zoom. How strange it is, Rachel says, to wake up and walk around without Maizy. “Death is the only thing we know to be true,” says my 70-year-old friend L. We’ve been walking through an oak-hickory forest on a mostly unmarked trail for a couple of miles, and we’ve come to a T-intersection with a sign that points left to “Beach – 1 mile” and right to “Dead End – 1 mile.” We turn right. And after a mile we find ourselves in a large clearing filled with reindeer lichen. There are certainly worse places to end up.

curled in a maze of roots another life

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Dave Bonta mixes plain prose with short haiku-like verses to tell of a small, sad loss. His partner Rachel's old terrier, Maizy, has lost her bearings, her walking circles shrinking until they fill a corner of the kitchen. Rachel decides to have her put to sleep, and holds the dog like a baby as she dies. The speaker is far away in London, so he can only share the grief over Zoom, which makes it feel both close and out of reach.

The second half turns to a walk with a friend, L., who says death is the one certain thing. The trail ends at a sign pointing to "Beach" or "Dead End," and they choose the dead end. It leads to a clearing of lichen, and the speaker calmly says there are worse places to end up. The mood is quiet and tender, sad but accepting. The haiku echo this: leaves spiral and settle, and roots curl around "another life."

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