Starmaids Flower-Maid
3 March 1982 - 30 September 1994

Little John	Barvae Starmaker	Barvae Pilot
		Barvae Shuella
	Violas Kamilla	Beau Brummell
		Violas Driva
Starmaids Courtney-Maid	Tarr Hill Rollikin Romeo	Navan´s Triple Trouble Rick
		Pixshire´s Fancy-Free
	Starmaids Bold-Bluemaid	Bravurs Zonny
		Mitchie

Maidi was born in Vällingby and her full name was Starmaids Flower-Maid, but in daily speach she was just called Maidi. I have not seen many beagles with such graceful movements as hers.
In her early days she was a breeding bitch - this was when she was living with her first master in Vattholma. Two of her puppys were our males Toke and Sniff, who were bought by my parents and sister, so when her mothering years were over we were asked if we wanted to give her a new home. The alternative was to put her away, so of course we did not refuse. At that time she was 7,5 years old and supposed to enjoy her retirement - but, though her face was grey, she was far from an old lady yet...which we noticed the moment she entered our house and gave her impertinent son Toke a good dressing-down. The young rascal had fallen in love with he at first sight and put his wet little nose under her tail. Naturally he had not the slightest idea about her being his mother, but even if he had known he would probably have done the same. She was a bitch and this fact was enough for him, her scent made him give himself up.
He courted and adored her during the five years they got together and according to her behavior, I believe she was rather fond of him, too. She was a bitch who was very easy to love, in spite of her undoubted faults.

The worst of her shortcomings was her appetite, it was immense. She was totally fixated on getting something to eat, which is by the way not unusual amongst her breed - a hound should be hungry.
She swallowed the most peculiar things - she had a soft spot for our compost pile, as for acorns, snails and green apples and other delicate objects she would pick up from the ground whenever she got the opportunity. Once she ate half a bag of bone-meal and then she did not feel well. Her intestines where totally blocked for a while. We had to "grease" them with liquid paraffine to make the greyish cement-like mass pass through. Her "doings" the days after had a distictly personal touch. Maybe she was not especially clever, but at least she was gentle and sweet.

Another time when she was in trouble, there was a fast-growing mammal tumour which (of course!) had to be instantly removed the day before Christmas Eve. She had to undergo two major surgeries - with a couple of weeks between them - and lost a considerate amount of her blood, but was surprisingly soon on her legs again, begging for food as if nothing had happened. We used to say, as long as she ate there was nothing to worry about. If she would loose her appetite, though...there must be something tremendously wrong.
The night before the last day in September - the day when her health-insurance would finally cease to be valid - she came in from the garden and turned seriously ill, staggering around as drunk and obviously in agony. She put her nose up against the wall and drooled. Her throat was sore and she was in great pain.
She had thrown up something brown and wood-like, we thought it was sticks from the bushes outside. Later we realized our mistake. It was a dead bird with sharp, broken feathers which had cut up her throat from inside and put her deeply in shock. We had to put her in the car and drive away with her in the dark. She was admitted in the animal hospital where they kept her for observation.
I will never forget that night with all the stars and the glittering frosty road - the crescent of the moon, reflecting itself on the surface of the lake. I sat and held Maidi´s paw in my hand. It was already as cold as ice and I suspected this was the end. Her eating habits had always been a subject for fun, we had made jokes about that sooner or later they would kill her...and now it was happening.
In the morning they called from the hospital and told us she was worse. The only thing left to do for her was to relieve her from her misery.
I will always remember the feeling of her hard little paw in the palm of my hand. Her tail, that had happily swept around our legs, would never be wagging again.

When a beloved member of family suddenly disappears, the house feels sad and empty for them who are left to remember. Last spring my father had passed away and now our "flower-girl" Maidi had decided to make him company. I hope he was there to meet her and take her to soft green meadows, to prevent her faithful soul from running alone and scared for too long in that cold foreign place.