This picture is of the best friend I’ve ever had. Through the best of times and the worst of times, he was there. Max was a great example of what a Weimaraner can be. I got him as a 10-week old pup who had been the male pick of the 10-pup litter. He had already survived the adversity of his mother trying to thin down the number of pups, and had to be hand-fed. This was,in a way, a harbinger of things to come. He came home with me, a happy little guy, who soon became ill from a reaction to a vaccine, as some Weimaraners do. 3 weeks and 1200 dollars in vet bills later, I had a skinny little pup, who soon grew.. and grew, and grew, eventually becoming as large as a Weim is ever supposed to be. He housetrained amazingly quickly, and never really barked until one day at 5 months, he went outside, and announced himself to the world. One big Woof and that was enough. He never was much of a barker. As time went on, Max became a show champion, a field dog, and an all-around companion. He always did have a bit of a hard-luck streak going. (eating a bit of sheet metal, cuts, bleeding, rose thorns that barely missed his eyes, etc).
He was there through the last of my college days, the decline and loss of my father and the childhood of my 2 nephews. He and the first of my nephews were but weeks apart.

Had Max traveled by air as much as he spent time in my vehicles, he’d have had frequent flyer miles backed up to the ceiling.
Eventually, as happens to all dogs, he started slowing down, and started dragging a hind leg. Little did we know that this was the start of a canine form of MS and that it would be his undoing. Eventually, it got so bad that he lost use of both hind legs, and eventually the front as well. He also developed a fast-growing cancer on the same hind leg that first lost function. It reached a finalty one Saturday when I came home from work, and he was no longer taking his medicine, refusing water and food ( THAT never happened before .. no FOOD??) and softly moaning. I spent that last night with him, lying on the floor with him until the next morning. I had to carry him into the vet’s office for that last trip, though he was hurting, he still wagged his half-tail, and greeted the vet staff like they were his best friends, as best he could without being able to get up. I held him as the vet adminstered the shot, and I saw the light go out in his eyes.
Max’s time with me was a gift from God. I do my best now to repay that by working with the Weimaraner rescue here in Northern California. I have the distinct privilege of transporting the rescued dogs from the shelters to their fosters or new owners. Anyone who takes in these dogs in need is OK in my book. It doesn’t have to be “my” breed of dog, I just do the little part I can, in Max’s memory.

Chuck from CA