Winmalee resident Adam Yeend moved to the United States 12 years ago to pursue an acting career but his time in LA changed forever when a wolfdog named Magnum came into his life.
Magnum was the closest we will ever come to having a child of our own.
I met my partner Ryan in early 2012. He came as a "package deal" of sorts - two for the price of one. I had never heard of a wolfdog before. Magnum was Canadian Timber Wolf mixed with Malamute Husky, with white-socked legs, a black coat, broad white snout, and a face masked in caramel.
Pretty soon into my relationship with Ryan, it became clear that Magnum did not want to be a third wheel in his family; I'd get pushed into the hallway wall when he walked past, casting death stares while watching a movie on the couch. I would even sometimes wake up in the middle of the night to a silhouette of a giant wolf staring at me - it was his vetting process. I also noticed Magnum never begged for affection or appeared needy like most dogs, he didn't need to. He was often gifted with belly rubs, mainly from Ryan, or the vast number of female friends in his life.
Without going too much into the trials and tribulations of Magnum's unique genetics - resulting in a breed of dog both unpredictable, highly intelligent and very much still in touch with his wolf side - it became apparent that Magnum would never be content being relegated to the yard. He would be our constant companion.
Magnum accompanied us everywhere - to the movies, New Year's Eve parties, the beach, red carpets, restaurants, our friends' homes, road trips to Arizona for Thanksgiving with my in-laws, and as far north as Seattle to celebrate the 90th birthday of Ryan's grandfather. Our entire lives were dictated by where we could take Magnum, and if that were not an option, finding him a sitter.
Magnum provided stability and cheer during an intense period of job uncertainty at my work, film studio 20th Century Fox (under purchase by The Walt Disney Studios in 2019).
Magnum loved going to that office. Prancing around the Fox studio, like a multi-Oscar nominated film, he was always well-received by those who saw him. He had his favorites in the office, one of my supervisors, Natalie. He would wait outside her office every morning until she arrived, and at lunchtime, he would time our walks, knowing just how long to wait for Natalie to return from her lunch break for his daily treat.
There was also Jared who I sat next to, and the accounts ladies who would take their break on the couch by the elevator of which Magnum would join for a catch-up session. He'd also crash meetings in the conference room, meetings I was not part of - "Come in, Magnum!" - and from my desk I'd hear the door shut.
His gentle yet giant presence would sometimes startle people who were hard at work only to find his large snout resting on their desk as they'd go to grab their mouse or look down at their keyboard. Aside from some occasional goofing around, he wasn't loud, didn't lick people, he'd just look at them deeply with a connection that I believe brought our whole office together, offering support during a time when we needed it most.
As the months went by, the workload diminished, and people started disappearing. Magnum would go visit their empty desks and look at me wondering where they were. Many would come and say goodbye, including his favorite friend, Natalie, who took a new role at Disney's Burbank offices and who Magnum would still wait for each morning.
It was in late February 2020 when we were delivered the news that our department was to be shut down. But then COVID-19 happened - no goodbyes, no closure, everyone was to spend their remaining weeks working remotely. (My belongings are still sitting on my desk.)
The pandemic hit everyone in painful and unexpected ways but try explaining that to a wolfdog who spent each day visiting his friends. "Why were we not leaving the house anymore?" "Why can't I see my friends?" were the questions I imagined him asking.
By this time Magnum had got on in years and suffered a few ailments that required extra care - a ramp in and out of the car, booties for his back feet, and more frequent but shorter walks.
After a bout of pneumonia and some other health problems, Magnum, as only Magnum could, made it very clear to us that his body was no longer able to do those things and his spirit had other priorities in this world. We sought out multiple opinions, made countless vet visits, but we were unified as a family.
On September 15, 2020 the day came. We all slept together on the floor the night before; some of our friends had already said their goodbyes. That morning we drove him to one of his favorite parks for a peaceful walk and brought him home for his breakfast; I filmed Ryan preparing his last meal and he gobbled it up as he always did. Then Magnum chose a place in the living room where he lay down and stayed for the next hour before the hospice vet arrived.
We both held our boy from either side gently patting his gorgeous face and told him how grateful we were for him, and that he did good in this life. As those wise eyes calmly looked back and forth at us, with dignity, grace and upholding his regal qualities, we all said goodbye in our little home; with Ryan and I on either side, and he cuddled his favorite rabbit with those giant paws. Magnum, the first priority in our family of three, had moved on.
Ryan and I have been comforted with many beautiful reminders of the full life Magnum led, reaching as far and wide as family and friends in Australia.
My parents, who still live in Winmalee, experienced their first Halloween and Thanksgiving with him here in the US, and they had a connection too; the first morning they stayed with us, Magnum had uncharacteristically jumped into bed with them - that's a lot of dog on one bed with two adults, but I have the photos to prove it with smiles all around.
Now that dreaded final day has come and gone, I know that there was not a single moment Ryan and I were not honored to be Magnum's outlet to this world.
He taught me to take pause, look around and be curious, just as he was. To see the things in others that are often overlooked. As Ryan's Dad, a pastor, said, "there was something just incredibly unique and special about Magnum with the way he'd connect with people".
It's impossible for me to believe that the love we shared, and a spirit that big and wise, is gone forever. He is not only now and forever a part of us, but wherever he settles next, he will no doubt bring out the best in a whole new community of people.
In Los Angeles, he was a gift.
Adam Yeend has lived in Los Angeles for 12 years after winning a green card when he was 28.
