A letter of love – Dearest Milo,
You came into my life while I was still grieving your great, great uncle Nils. I wrote to your breeder only to tell her of Nils’s passing when she implored me to consider you? I thought how could I bring a dog into my life who was born two weeks before Nils passed away?
Your breeder thought Nils knew his legacy was secured through you, and thus it was ok for him to pass on. This certainly caused me to consider …
When I told tia Cris, I didn’t think I was ready to have my heart broken again, she wisely said “I’m a girl with glasses, you’re a girl with a dog”. She was right. I am a girl with a dog, who knows that loving deeply includes profound heartache.
But when we met, I held back and so did you. It was after ninety minutes of play with Uncle Rick running in circles, so I could watch you, that I asked you to give me a sign, were to come home with me? You promptly sat down and pawed me. I scooped you up, cried, and yelled to your Uncles Rick and Marcel and Auntie Anna that it was decided Milo was coming home. You looked so sad when we left that day, but I told you I’d be back in a few weeks, and we would take great adventures together. I learned quickly you hated the journey (vomit box), but you loved the destination!
Planes were a little different, you didn’t hate them, you just hated sitting still! Back when “service companion” was still a legit thing, you racked up your fair share of business traveler points during our first two years together - Paris to Madrid, Madrid to Bordeaux, Madrid to Venice, Madrid to Chicago (the nice people at Iberia gave you your own seat), Chicago to Columbus and ultimately to our new home – Madrid to Amsterdam.
Your Baby Goat personality emerged within the first days of arriving to Spain. The countless hours Luis spent lovingly supporting, training, and helping you overcome your fear of leaving home, plastic bottles, busy city streets, umbrellas, cars, construction scaffolding and ultimately doing anything you didn’t want to do! You were my stubborn Baby Goat, in hindsight, not so different than your Capricorn Mama. You did what you wanted on your terms, and you protested the things you did not want to do. You demanded to stay at the best places until the sunset and pushed open the bedroom door when you were ready to go to bed, often like a grandpa – barking at me to turn down the tv or come join you because you needed your rest for the next day’s adventure.
Your grace and elegant stature surpassed the breed standard. You had a refined elegance that was unique, especially in the Netherlands where Flatties tend to be a bit more robust. To watch you run down the beach and leap into the air to catch a pelota was majestic.
Milo, for being a flattie, you were a bit of an introvert – you wagged your tail at everyone and were offended when humans would pass by without admiring how handsome you were, but your inner circle was small in terms of dogs and humans. But for those you cherished, all I had to do was say their name and you’d run to the door looking for them. Forgive me for on more than 10,000 occasions saying “Busca Cris”, to get you to come inside!
Your focus and intensity were epic! When you first bravely entered the waves in Biarritz and learned the Tide would play a game with you and your pelota, it was nearly impossible to get you out of the water. You would track your pelota as the waves carried it in and out, sprint to get the ball before I could reach it, for this you gained a second nickname of little Monster!
You never tired of this game but when we moved to NL, you invented a new game in the dunes of Noordwijk, you realized that if you ran up the dune, you could roll the ball with your nose and it would sail down the giant mound of sand, giving you endless hours of entertainment and exercise!
While you were a natural retriever, you missed the memo on “handing over the retrieved item to the human in question”, you preferred instead to hand it over when you saw fit. “Roll-it” became a game-changer and again entertained countless humans when they would watch you use your nose to roll the ball to me so I could throw it for you again and again. Your energy was boundless.
True to your French core, you were great at staging a manifestation when you didn’t want to leave the beach or come inside. These protests were the source of humor for the countless individuals who witnessed The Girl vs. De Baby Goat, often resulting in me picking up all twenty-eight kilos of you and carrying you to the car or inside.
Your sense of direction and memory as to where the best sticks were left or might be found were at the heart of many of our great debates. In the end, I gave in and let the giant stokjes enter the house and you promptly took them to the garden to add to your collection, you became quite the Hoarder!
I joked that I bought this house for you, but it’s true! Of the countless properties I looked over two years, none were right until I walked into the garden in the pouring rain and claimed it as ours! Merci for guiding me to our home, a space infused with your energy, for pissing off the grumpy old neighbor, and for waking up the “all too quiet”, inner gardens of the Weesperzijde with your squeaking balls and fierce defending of your domain from the cats and bird flying through your airspace. I promise you; whatever fur soul comes after you – I’ll make sure he continues to keep things lively in the garden!
Like Nils, you gave me the courage to move to a new country, you helped me discover the neighborhood and all the merchants in our path, especially the ones who kept cookies behind their counters! In the final months, it became downright embarrassing when you would boldly drag me into a store, we didn’t need anything from, and jump up on the counter or walk behind to politely demand a cookie! Little Monster!
You were known in de Pijp as the beautiful dog sitting in the giant window, that’s how we met people during those first weeks “how are you two liking the new neighborhood”? People would ask – not because they recognized me, but because of you. And when we moved across the Amstel, it was because of you that we met dog friends and neighbors who witnessed your obsession with carrying home the giant branches. You made 1.5M social distancing a thing before it was a thing, based on the branches you’d collect.
Milo, when you joined my life, I knew in my gut and my heart that your time on earth and with me would not long. I thought we were on the 8-year plan vs the 12-year plan, never did I consider we would only celebrate six of your birthdays.
This of course, explains a lot! For one, why you looked so serious as a puppy and were so sure about what you wanted and didn’t want to do in this life. The wisdom you brought into this life and short timeline, propelled you to find joy in every moment of every day and only do the important stuff.
At your core – you knew how to enjoy life from the moment you woke up, pounced on me with your tail was wagging and licking my face to demand breakfast, to your incessant ringing of the chime to go play in the garden. Your spirit was wired to live fully. It fueled your demands for playing in nature, chasing pelotas, finding stokjes, swimming in any body of water, and squeaking your toys until you would fall asleep sitting up with a mapache or a ball in your mouth.
Your willful nature and determination supported you during radiation and chemo, your grace and wisdom accepted the treatments, and your joyful spirit was your guide as you walked down many a hall with the Oncology team at Utrecht University with your tail wagging and a pelota or stuffie in your mouth. Mimi, you were brave when they drew blood and twice used a micro needle to remove ½ L of fluid so you could continue on for a while longer.
You were honest with me every step of the way, making sure I could feel confident about the decisions I was making on your behalf – not to amputate your front leg, because without being able to run and jump to catch a pelota, you would not have been Milo.
That decision meant our time together would be shorter, but it allowed you to live fully as MILO! You guided me to know when to continue the treatments, when to push the medical team that something was not right although your tail was wagging and they could not hear the fluid around your lungs, they saw it on the ultrasound.
And in the end, when it was time to stop the chemo, you were like my cute mama, determined to stay around longer than the Oncologist or local Vet though possible. You were determined to get to Texel for our vacation week, to celebrate turning six surrounded by humans who loved you and love me. You knew how much I needed that time with you and with people who loved us and would look after me after you left, people who would understand my grief and respect your process.
In those final days, you were determined to walk across the expansive beach to get to the water, when I know you didn’t have much energy left. You wanted to spend every possible moment in nature, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the cool refreshing breeze. You made new friends with the neighbors and helped the kind woman who had lost her dog a few years ago smile again.
And when it was time to go back to Amsterdam, and I’d folded down ½ the seat but left the rollbar, determined as only a Baby Goat could be, you climbed over the bar to tell me this was not how we would be spending the trip home. I removed the bar and folded the other seat down and settled into the back with you, serving as your pillow and chin rest for the ride.
When we hit Amsterdam, I asked Kate to roll down your window and on cue you, put your head out for one last time, letting your ears flap in the wind and feeling the sun on your sweet face. And then you laid down in my lap and went to sleep. You were peaceful. You had quite literally, used every single breath you’d been given to the fullest. May we all live as fully and joyfully as you did my sweet, stubborn Baby Goat!
To the amazing humans who loved my Milo/Mimi/BabyGoat, helped him navigate the world and cared for him – we are forever grateful for your role in helping Milo feel secure and loved.
Cris ❤️, Luis ❤️, Lisa❤️ -- you were his first family and his foundation! Liz W ❤️who made him rice with lots of butter and took him to happy hours in de Pijp, and Liz K ❤️ who taught Milo the importance of Spanish happy hour at Estay, Meleah ❤️ whom Milo considered his big sister and vacation buddy, Auntie Anna Banana ❤️ who flew from Paris to help during big transitions, and to Sherfey ❤️ - who ate Milo's cookies, endured the 11-hour tortious drive from Paris to Biarritz, swam in the Amstel with him and for whom Milo would run down an Amsterdam street to smother with kisses.
In Amsterdam, Milo learned about family – our FriendFamily those who loved Nils and would fall in love with him, his Auntie Kate ❤️ & best friend Dutch, The Reyes Family ❤️ who kept toys and cookies at their house and esp. David who knew exactly where to scratch for optimal joy, Mia ❤️ who taught him Finnish and understood the soulful connection between humans and animals, your girlfriend Lilly and her magical human sister Evelina – who offered to let me borrow Lilly for hugs “because she loves me” and E knew how sad I was when you passed away and of course, our friend Sara who invited us into their beautiful lives in Monnickendam and dear sweet Daly ❤️ – for whom Milo was convinced came to our house 3x weekly to play with him and just happened to also straighten-up our messes!
Amsterdam would not have been possible without the indomitable Nico! I interviewed her and she interviewed me – I was asking her to care for the most precious soul in my world. And while a pragmatic Dutch woman, Nico had a giant ❤️ heart for Milo. My wise friend Giovanna told me to let Milo be a dog, let him get dirty, run in the woods, swim in ponds – Nico offered Milo all of those opportunities on a daily basis. Starting around noon each weekday, Milo would sit in the front window waiting for Nico’s gray van to appear around 13h so they could run in de Bos, chase pelotas, find giant stokjes and SWIM! Nico was a great swim coach, Milo gained confidence in the water and the determination to jump into any body of water even on the days when I said it was verboden (stinky ponds). Nico let Milo be a dog, this gave me immense joy but more importantly, I knew he was safe with her, loved and protected when he heard loud booms! Milo you were her first client, and I’d like to think favourite!
Merci to the countless humans who enjoyed his antics and loved him from afar and Auntie Kate, Vera, Nancy and Mel who frequently sent packages of joy – which Milo always knew were for him! And to Susan who helped us navigate the most difficult days - our gratitude.
And to my dear Julian who helped me navigate Milo’s final months by supporting me in my desire to let Milo decide when he was done. Juli, you understood how important it was to listen to my heart, to be true to Milo and ignore the outside noise – because I knew my boy best! We were and will always be connected at a heart level.
And to our Paris family who welcomed me with hugs, distractions, drinks, laughter, meals, playground times and sweet little hands to hold, while allowing me to talk about you - with both laughter and tears present - Merci you're good medicine.
While Daly might have wiped your nose prints off the front window, I still look up was I take my bike out of the rack, expecting to see you sending me off or barking when I come home. Daly has told me she’s seen others looking in the window for you. The neighbor girl who liked petting you asked if I was sad after her dad had told her about your passing. And last night, I reached for the remote to hit mute when a dog was barking on the tv, and then I realized you were not here …
Rest in Peace my sweet Milo!
Xoxo
Executive Advisor to Milo Mirliton du Marais de la Sangsurière aka De Baby Goat (16 July 2016 – 18 March 2022). This was the most demanding and rewarding job of my life!
A life lived fully in pics - https://www.milodebabygoat.com/
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