The Best Dog Ever
The mug we grew to love, usually millimeters from our faces.
Our love affair with a dog came to a sad, abrupt end on Friday, August 5. Goldie was afflicted with cancer, though nobody knew it.
We can be grateful that Goldie was very healthy for the 11 years he was with us, albeit with some aging issues, all the way up until the last 24 hours of his life. I don’t recall him ever being sick, per se, though he suffered allergies and joint problems.
The late afternoon before he passed, Maureen noticed he was not doing well and would not eat. He had joined me as usual on our daily 2.5 mile walk with no trouble whatsoever. By evening, Maureen had considered ER care but thought he’d probably be ok by morning for a regular vet visit. He was not. We carried him to the car and I comforted him in the back seat as Maureen drove to the veterinary ER right down the street. In short order, our Golden Boy was diagnosed with a fatal blood vessel cancer.
We knew it was bad when he was lying on the floor with a port and tubes in his belly. As Maureen and Serena comforted him on the ground, I motioned for the vet to come over and talk to me.
“We’re not taking Goldie home, are we?”
“No, I’m sorry. You’re not.”
“Is he about to pass or…”
“No, we can’t wait for that. It would not be humane.”
And there it was. A few minutes later she had a meeting with us all and informed Serena and Maureen. Ugh…
Caught off guard
The fact that we lost him so suddenly has made it devastating for the whole family. Goldie was well worn into the fabric of our family. He was family. He was also everybody’s best friend, providing regular comic relief in the way he lounged around on our furniture. I especially appreciated his enthusiasm for constant walks with me and going on excursions to a lake for swimming with Serena.
My problem was rooted in my unrealistic expectations. I figured if I kept his heart in good order with regular walks, he’d live another 10 years! He’s a mutt with great genetic diversity. What could go wrong? I had no clue he could go out this soon.
My unexpected emotional reaction to this loss demonstrates how I underestimated my attachment to this dog. For non-pet owners, I can totally understand the wonderment and maybe puzzlement over how involved we can get with these pets. It’s an animal, after all. I now feel a bit guilty for not better appreciating and empathizing with friends and family after they lost beloved animals.
I’ve had many pets since I was a little kid—cats, dogs, fish, birds. But the loss of Goldie is so different. He’s the first dog I owned the entire way through his life cycle. He was here every day and then suddenly. Gone. He was here when the girls were very young, when Maureen got dangerously ill five years ago, when I worked from home for 8 years and through every stage of our family life. The rational part of my brain knows I need to be thankful for all those loving years but the heart is not yet ready to accept the reality.
I was in a mental fog the day this all happened and I’m not a whole lot better now. Oddly, it is hard both to think about him and to try not to think about him. Talking about Golden Boy usually prompts tears and at this writing, I have not even attempted a first walk without him.
How he walked into our lives
When our girls were just ages 5 and 7, we all drove to a Milwaukee shelter to look at available dogs because the ones in Madison were few and not right for us. When we arrived, there were a lot of puppies of breeds we were not drawn to, mostly pit bulls. Then we saw a yellowish mutt who was maybe a year old. He was very friendly, wagging his tail enthusiastically as we approached him. It didn’t take long to conclude as a family, that this would be our dog.
When we brought him home, he was probably a year old and not yet potty trained. He would constantly chew my ankles during walks, too. It was the stuff of a young dog that he quickly grew out of. And the girls grew up along with him. Goldie quickly became everybody’s best friend and unofficial emotional support animal.
Goldie did so many things that were uniquely Goldie. He’d jump on me while in a living room chair, plop his body on my chest and put that long snout millimeters from my nose. I used to call him, “Goldie, the dog with no personal space issues.” When he had enough of me or if I kicked him off, he’d jump down and hop on Maureen’s lap in the same fashion in the next chair over. Goldie could not love or be loved enough.
Goldie was a Foodie
Besides people, Goldie loved eating. Every bowl of dogfood was the most delicious cuisine he’d ever experienced. His approach to dinner was akin to a lion’s. In fact, Serena just reminded me that I once said that the day Goldie refuses to eat is the day we know he’s in trouble. Well, he refused his dish for the first time on the day before he passed.
In line with his favorite passion, he was the greatest opportunist ever. Goldie never begged at the table, but he was always nearby, in a prime location. Anything that fell from the table was in his mouth in nanoseconds. And if you weren’t paying attention, he’d snatch anything he could get his paws on. In fact, he stole 2 pork shops last week! God bless him. He once devoured a neighbor’s plate of lasagna during one of our parties while the teen got up for a drink. More recently, I made a loaf of banana bread and somebody in the family had the first slice, but left it too close to the edge of island. I found the plastic bag on the living room floor. Goldie devoured the entire loaf! I wish we had known his days were numbered, as we would have spoiled him like mad.
But he also loved regular dog food, and had an uncanny ability to know when it was his dinner hour. [He actually cleaned the bowl in about 45 seconds.] It was almost as if he wore a watch, as he’d bark wildly directly at you a few minutes before or after 6.
Food deprivation?
We’ve theorized that his obsessive love for food and eating quickly had something to do with his upbringing. All we know is that his former owners eventually let him go to fend for himself on the streets. We don’t know how he survived for weeks on his own, but strangers must have been feeding him, though he was pretty thin when animal control picked him up.
His photo was on the shelter website and his first family could have easily found him if they were so inclined. The economy was bad then and my ER Vet client at the time told me that people in economic distress sometimes just let their pets go because they can’t afford them. How desperate one must be to do that is beyond my understanding.
The Promised Land
Goldie may have started life under duress but he found his way to heaven on Gray Fox Trail in Madison, Wisconsin. He was adored, lounged on a variety of leather couches, and slept 16+ hours per day. But for everything he was given, he returned it 10 times over in companionship, empathy and love.
Goldie walked the 2.5-mile neighborhood route with me almost every day. He was extremely perceptive and somehow knew when I was getting ready for our walk. Getting my shoes on was a sure sign, as he’d start following me everywhere I went. I had a baseball cap in the garage. He’s there. I needed my headphones for podcasts. He’s in the laundry room.
Goldie loved those walks and was in great shape because of them. Only in the last year or so did he show signs of aging. Last spring, we got as far as a park 2 blocks from our house and he just abruptly sat down. He would not move. No whimpering or signs of distress. But I’m not going anywhere. I had to call Maureen to drive him home. This may have been the undiscovered cancer or orthopedic issues. We’ll never really know. On subsequent walks, he would sometimes stop halfway through and would be willing to go in the opposite direction toward home rather than complete the walk. More often than not in the past year, he made the whole route. He was very stoic, not letting on that he was severely ill. We had no idea and neither did the vet! He got regular care and was on medication for his aches and pains, which we thought were only orthopedic in nature
Wiley coyote
On one of our walks, we encountered a coyote cross the street just 50 feet in front of us in a regular neighborhood on Farmington. Goldie’s tail was straight out and he made not a sound. It was like he instinctively knew the rules of the forest.
He barked like crazy when encountering most leashed dogs, but not always. There was a Chocolate Lab on our route who was penned with an invisible fence. That dog would bark enthusiastically but playfully right up to the sidewalk in his yard as we passed. Goldie completely ignored him, always. He trotted ahead and never even looked that dog’s way. Just very unusual.
Working overtime
In recent years, Serena loved having Goldie in her room as her personal sleep aid. He always started there, cuddled with her until she fell asleep, and then he’d wander back into our bedroom in the middle of the night and sleep on the couch until we all got up. We’d always find him in the morning, oftentimes sleeping on his back, paws up.
Olivia also had a strong connection to him. When she’d arrive home from work or school, she’d always lay on the kitchen floor and cuddle with him in the fetal position. “You’re so gorgeous,” she’d tell him, as she kissed his snout.
Olivia also made special meals for him that looked horrifically gross but were good for him. She’d have these frozen packets that we’d thaw and give him for dinner. For her high school graduation, we enlarged a poster of Olivia with Goldie on the front lawn.
Competition
A few years ago, we added a second dog to our family, a shiatzu name Boot-Boot. Goldie was good to her but was occasionally annoyed when she got attention and he did not. The two became friends, nonetheless, nuzzled each other and generally co-existed just fine. It was especially fun to see them romp around, chasing each other.
Now what?
When a canine companion has been with you for so long, and part of your daily routine, it is hard to embrace the absence, the silence, his stuff strewn around the house, etc.
In the final stages of this life cycle, I made the cremation call today, which also brought back the dreaded moments of last Friday. Then we’ll have to pick up the ashes and create some sort of memorial for him. We’ll also likely do a memorial walk of our route Goldie and I took so many times over the years.
We have all the memories and a million photos, which we will keep close, as we cherish him and other lost loved ones in our lives. Goldie was as much a family member as any other, just in different ways. He earned our devotion and justifies our tears and sadness. When that veil of grief will lift, I don’t know. Hopefully, the shock of it all will fade and we’ll be left with pleasant memories.
We’re not there yet, though.