He was a damn fine dog

Just like everyone thinks they have the cutest and smartest baby on the planet, dog lovers all think their pooch is the prettiest, the nicest, the best companion, etc.

I've had lots of dogs. Some great. Some duds. My mom at one point had 4 dogs at the same time. One was an insane little terrier. One, however, was a truly great dog - Garozzo, the Chow/Australian Sheppard mix who was named for a famous bridge player. Even with the Sheppard lineage and the famous namesake, Garozzo was not the brightest dog. He was, however, the sweetest dog I've ever met.

Of course, I said was - since Garozzo died today. Last Wednesday we noticed that he had lost some weight and that his glands were swollen. Mom took him to the vet on Saturday and they said it was cancer.

A biopsy confirmed this. They thought he might have 3 months to live, possibly 9 with chemo. These estimates are more art than science, but this time the art was way off.

On Wednesday he seemed fine. Really. His demeanor was perfectly normal - so we had no worries other than the physical clues.

By Saturday he wasn't eating. By Monday night he was incontinent. Last night mom decided that he had no quality of life left, so it was time to euthanize him.

Only we didn't get the chance. Today, I went over to my mom's house to help her take Garozzo in. I knew it would be devastating for her and I knew I had to be with her. She was on her way home from work and I let myself in. 2 dogs greeted me at the door. One dog laid by the doggie door, unmoving. I knew as soon as I walked in, but like a badly written screenplay direction I still called out to him, "Garozzo, honey, you okay?" I walked tentatively towards him, felt my eyes welling up with tears, and put my hand on his chest to feel for breathing and a heartbeat. He was gone.

I could go into painstaking detail about mom coming home, our getting him to the vet for cremation, and all of that - but that stuff sucks, and Garozzo was one of a kind. He needs to be remembered not for the good-bye but for all the good stuff.

Garozzo was a gentle soul. He loved people and other animals. He once accidentally killed a wild bird he was trying to play with and he howled about it. He nudged the poor bird and howled - he looked at me as if to say, fix the birdie. So the next week when we brought a new toy into a house, a stuffed cat that actually mewed like a real cat, Garozzo gingerly carried the cat with him everywhere. He would not let any of the other dogs play with it. The more we made it mew the more protective he became. Be careful - little animals are fragile. He looked worried as he carried it past the other dogs. Don't hurt him - he's our friend.

One of our favorite Garozzo-isms was his love of wet hair. If you came out of the shower, the rain, or even just worked out, Garozzo would try desperately to rub his head on yours. If you laid down on the bed with wet hair he would jump on the bed and roll all over your head. Something about the smell of wet hair was like ambrosia to him.

Another great Garozzo-ism was that his Australian Sheppardness made him want to herd all of us. He'd walk along side you and suddenly try to redirect you, for no good reason, and in no good direction. Sometimes he'd redirect you into a wall. Sometimes he'd over correct and he's be the one facing the wall. When he would herd us we would say, "Garozzo, I don't want to be herded right now" and he would smile and wag his tail, and then try to direct you into a wall.

He was a sweet dog. He wasn't a barker, he wasn't a jumper, he wasn't needy. He wanted to be around his family, regardless of the number of legs they had. He loved his siblings, he loved every person that came into the house - and everyone loved him.

His eyes were always bright and full of kindness. His red hair was the envy of most women. When mom started having him shaved a few summers ago, he would come home with his normal head full of red hair, but his whole body was blond. We started calling him the sweater dog - since it looked like he was wearing a sweater. Did he mind? Not at all. Even with all that beautiful hair he had no vanity. He liked being cooler in the scorching AZ summers. It made it easier for him to snuggle in the summer, because he wasn't overheated.

Mom has always described Garozzo as the least selfish dog she has ever known. Even as he worsened this past week he always had a smile and a wag for anyone that talked to him. Mom struggled with the idea of putting him down, but it seemed like the only humane thing to do. Then, just when mom thought she was steady enough to do it, Garozzo died peacefully, as if he wanted to spare mom the pain and the guilt and the self doubt.

He died at home, looking out into the garden with a smile on his face. We should all be so lucky when our time comes.

He was a damn fine dog, and he will be greatly missed.