October 27, 2021
Miss Maudie Atkinson is a secondary character from the novel To Kill a Mockingbird. She lives across the street from the protagonists of the book, the Finch family – Atticus, Jem and Scout. The book chronicles the adventures of 5-year-old Scout and her older brother, Jem -two rambunctious, imaginative children who live in Maycomb, Alabama during the Great Depression. Maycomb is a sleepy little town, eventually rocked wide awake by a racially-charged trial of a black man for the alleged rape of a young, white woman. The children find themselves in the middle of town drama when their wise and authentic father, Atticus is selected to defend Tom Robinson (the accused rapist) in court. They also find themselves intrigued (or borderline obsessed) with the town recluse, Boo Radley. As the children navigate hot, sticky summers in Maycomb, full of child and adult drama alike, they have a constant companion in Miss Maudie. Miss Maudie Atkinson is spunky, clever, ladylike, gentle, and persevering – and she treats Scout and Jem like adults. She shows them respect and guides them as they deal with some themes that may be deemed beyond the grasp of their growing minds by other adults. Instead of telling them to be quiet and to stop asking questions, she answers their questions as blatantly and openly as she would for any adult. She is a true friend to Jem and Scout, and perhaps their greatest example of a mother-figure they have in their lives.
Miss Maudie Atkinson is my favorite literary character I’ve encountered (so far). I wish I emulated Miss Maudie a little more. When she speaks in the book, her words are dripping with class and wisdom. Her demeanor is dignified, even in the face of great suffering (like when her house catches on fire). She is funny and empathetic, and shows respect to everyone she meets. She is this wonderful example of how you can have a potent impact on the people around you, even in the most mundane situations (tea parties, porch sitting, etc.), and she demonstrates to young Scout that you can be ladylike without squashing every ounce of “self” and expression within you. She is lovely and strong, and I so desperately want to be lovely and strong too.
I like to think that Miss Maudie (the dog) lives up to some of the traits of her namesake. She is certainly spunky and gentle, and treats most people with respect. She is definitely prejudiced against large humans in dark clothing – especially after dark. She is clever, but also very dumb. She is not well-trained, but she has done an excellent job training me – most notable when the pizza has been delivered or the steaks are done cooking. Like Miss Maudie in the book, she has also survived a house-fire. She loves children. She can’t be trusted at tea parties because she will probably break some of the fine china or pee on the parlor rug. She is not a great conversationalist, but she’s funny. She’s barks at every noise she hears, and is the loudest chewer on the planet. She has torn a hole in every fuzzy blanket I own. She throws up at the most inconvenient times, and rattles her crate at bedtime as if I’ve locked her in Guantanamo for life. She looks adorable in bandanas, and hates to have her hair brushed. She’s a great listener. Miss Maudie (the dog) has a potent impact on my life every day, and she helps me be strong.
A lot of the guilt I experience in my life is related to Maudie Dog. I worry about her a lot. Is she happy? Does she get enough walks? Does she know how much I love her? Does she look at me and think about that time I smacked her – that time, I was late for work and she wouldn’t come out from under the bed and I lost my temper, and cried the entire way to work out of shame? Does she suffer from my demanding career? Did I mess up the good thing she had going for her when me and her “dad” parted ways? Would she have been happier with him?
I can remember when I first brought her home. This poor little puppy missed her real mom so much she cried all night every night for the first week we had her. I slept on the floor with her back then. I would lay down with my pillow and blanket in the closet next to her tiny little crate, and stick my hand inside it so she could feel me next to her all night. One night, I woke up and she was not in her crate. I sat up in a panic, and then looked down at my legs to see that she had curled up behind my knees and was sleeping like an angel. I felt like such a good dog mom in that moment. I felt like I had been her comfort during this incredibly painful time for her, and that I enveloped her with love. I think she’s been returning the favor ever since.
Like the rest of you, I have experience sitting in those valleys of life that people always talk about- those tiny, personal atomic bombs I mentioned in a previous entry. I don’t know how our pets are so attune to our feelings, but during these times, Maudie has presented herself front and center in the storm as if she knows every pathway in my heart and wants to walk them all with me. More than once in my life, I have fallen asleep with tears in my eyes and Maudie on my feet. Once when I was sad and working from home, she put her paw on my hand and rested it there – and there we sat for several minutes just holding each other. I am always so shocked by these little moments with her. She is this unstoppable ball of energy, always bouncing off the walls, begging for a fetch or a walk or a bite of something yummy. Yet, when my heart breaks, she is still. She looks at me with her big brown eyes, and together we are still.
I know some of you may read this and think that I need to get a grip or a life- that an animal shouldn’t inspire so much prose or sentimental foolishness. But I know that Maudie and I have survived a lot of trials together. We lived through a pandemic, we survived a fire. She has been by my side through migraines, strep throat, sore knees, and broken hearts. She lets me dress her up every Halloween, endures ugly Christmas sweaters, agonizing 5k races and trips to the groomer. She is always up for a hike or a walk, or even just a long ride in the car. She slow dances with me when I’m lonely. She gives me a reason to get out of bed every morning (her whines are quite persuasive) and makes me leave the house to get fresh air at least three times a day. Choosing to take care of her for the rest of her life was the best decision I ever made. More lovely still, she chooses to take care of me even when I’m not worthy or deserving of her unconditional love. I am not always lovely and strong like Miss Maudie Atkinson, but sometimes I think Maudie Dog helps me be lovely and strong more often because she is lovely and strong.
I love you, Maudie Girl. I hope you live forever.
Cluelessness is the Mother of Invention 