judge city

My dog was the best dog in the entire world. I know everyone thinks their dog is the best, but mine really was. Unable to be a show dog because of his “Swiss kiss” (a patch of white fur on the top of his head), Gus was the show dog of our house. He wasn’t athletic. I’ve literally never seen him fetch anything. I would throw a ball at his face and he’d just look at the ball like, “I’m not getting that.” All he wanted to do was sit on the couch and chill, maybe have a treat–that’s all I want to do too! Perfect, a level of fat-ass-ness I aspire to attain.

Plus, fetch is stupid and boring anyway. He was also clumsy like me. Never able to walk down the steps properly, Gus’ attempts sounded like a thunder storm. It basically encompassed him sliding down the steps, his tiny legs barely able to handle the task or his mass of fur. One time my sister and dad took him for a walk. Much like the myth of Narcissus, Gus discovered his reflection in a pond and upon further inspection, fell into the pond.

Gus also was super supportive of me and my sister’s various air-bands (our latest one is GooGoo McCain where we cover 90’s rock love songs). As a tribute, we often replaced his name in popular songs, such as “Look at this Gussie-graph/Every time I look it makes me laugh” and “Gus got me so Gussie in love/ Got me looking so Gussie in love/Gus gus gus gus gus gus gus gus gus gus….” I think he really enjoyed that.

Unfortunately, Gus passed away this week. He was close to death after stomach surgery two years ago. While he didn’t run around the yard and could only be coaxed into the house by yelling, “TREAT, GUS!”  our bro Gus was a fighter. We were lucky to even have the last two years with him. Those last two years were the best. Filled with so much love and treats and walks.

The last time I took Gus for a walk was when my boyfriend came to visit. Gus loved my boyfriend because they were very similar: gentle giants who could spend all day on the couch. We loved walking Gus because honestly anything he did was so funny to watch. His lack of kinetic sense in combination with his massive body made walking downhill a chore, and also a hilarious sight to see. Plus, walking Gus was like stepping out with a celebrity. Neighbors would come out of the woodwork with “oohs” and “ahhs” and “Is that Gus!?” His popularity was like one of those people in middle school who was just perpetually cool without any merit. And people marveled at his size much like the way people marvel at basketball players or a thirteen year old with a glandular problem.

On that last walk I took him on, me and my boyfriend noticed how svelte Gus had been looking. After hitting a whopping 135 pounds around Thanksgiving, Gus was put on a serious diet. He had a fabulous stride going and, as always, neighbors were more excited to see him than me. It couldn’t be a better walk. Gus took a massive shit in the middle of the street, no shame, like a boss. Then, he nearly expedited his death after almost getting hit by a car while trying to chase a hot girl dog. I’ve never seen Gus go after a chick like that! He totally manned up and the second time we saw the dog and he sniffed her butthole, like a boss. Though he never did take a shit on the neighbor’s lawn that has horribly ugly statues of birds playing cellos on it, Gus made me proud to be his sister.

Dogs can teach you a lot. A lesson I haven’t learned just from embroidered throw pillows. Each one of my dogs have taught me a really important lesson. My first golden retriever Jemma taught me how to love dogs and how they can be a true member of your family. She was my sister before my human sister was born. My second golden, Buddy, taught me the importance of enthusiasm and loyalty. I learned that being energetic, easygoing, and nice will get you, dog or human, pretty far. My third dog, a pitbull mix named Lulabelle, taught me the importance of understanding a situation from all sides. We adopted Lula from a nearby shelter and she was such a cute puppy. Unfortunately, her abusive past crept up as she got older and she became more violent toward other dogs. After biting my sister and harassing Buddy, it was easy to be mad at her, even hate her. But, looking back, she had been through a lot in her short life. She taught me to have empathy for people in tough situations.

And finally, Gus. Gus wasn’t just my brother, he was instrumental in healing my family. After losing Buddy and Lula in a devastating house fire, we were dog-less for the first time. A year later, the day we moved back into our house, we tried to surprise my dad with Gus. As we raced to the airport to pick-up our  new fluffball, my dad received a call from the vet congratulating him on his new puppy. Needless to say, the surprise was ruined. Though the minute he saw Gus, he knew Gus was something special. Having Gus assuaged the pain of the previous year and lessened the anguish of our losses. He taught us an important lesson in moving on with life. Gus made us feel normal again and he became an emblem of our family: chill, loves to eat & watch TV, has big hair. Yup, that’s pretty much us.

Gus, I know you are up in heaven eating the MOST treats, sitting on the fluffiest couch in front of the biggest  HD TV. Maybe you’re macking on pretty pomeranians or sharpeis (if you’re into thicker chicks). Hopefully you’ve met our other dogs, maybe even our slew of obese hamsters. And if you ever want to come and hang at your treat spot in the kitchen, I’d be more than happy to give you a big hug and a scratch behind the ear.