Guido's story begins with his half-brother, One-Eyed Jack. |
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The other day, I was talking to a friend and I told her that Guido is my heart dog. "What is a heart dog?" she asked. I got distracted before I could answer. Today, being the researcher that I am, I went off to seek a definitive answer to her question. Admittedly, I didn't look very long, but I couldn't find the answer. I think a heart dog is like pornography: there's no clear cut definition, but you know it when you see it. I saw descriptions of a doggie soulmate, of a dog you understand completely and who understands you. That sounds like a beautiful relationship, no? Guido is my heart dog, but he doesn't have an empathetic bone in his body. Aside from having an oversized sense of attachment to me, he couldn't care less what kind of day I'm having. He frustrates the hell out of me, and I probably frustrate the hell out of him. I wasn't even sure I loved him until he had a reaction to his third parvo shot and I thought he was dying. Liking him didn't come until much later. I've owned two dogs as an adult. Guido was about 8 when we adopted Daisy. Daisy is the sweetest (and most passive-aggressive) dog you will ever meet. When she was diagnosed with cancer, I spent thousands on treatment because she deserved a shot at a good life. I have much affection for Daisy. I love her dearly and she loves me (she refuses to go to bed until she gives me a good-night kiss). But she isn't my heart dog. When I got my first dog, I wanted a Daisy. But I got a Guido. So what makes Guido my heart dog? He just is. I feel an almost physical connection to him; a tether between us, if you will. When I lose him, I will lose a piece of myself. I am Daisy's guardian and protector, but Guido is mine. He has given me so much. So much that I never wanted or asked for. He's taught me patience, humility, selflessness, and how to be an adult. Guido is a difficult dog. I used to joke that he's lucky he got me, because I have a strong sense of responsibility and giving up on him was never an option. Except I wasn't really joking. Guido needed a special human. If he'd gone to any other family, he probably would have been given up (at best) or euthanized (at worst). I was uniquely suited (and able) to fully commit to being Guido's human. I don't have any other explanation except that we were meant to find each other. So there you have it. When I say Guido is my heart dog, I'm not being warm and fuzzy. Our bond is one of blood, sweat, and tears. Literally. Yesterday I turned 41.
Yesterday I found out Guido has a brain tumor. Guido is my Italian Greyhound/Miniature Pinscher mix and we've been together since he was a wee puppy. It would be easy to spend his remaining time hugging him tight and shedding tears over what Guido and I are about to lose. But I don't want that for him. Guido will be 15 in a couple of weeks. I've decided that I want him to be as comfortable and happy as possible in whatever time we have left - be that a few weeks, months, or years. To help me hold up my end of the bargain, I'm going to document our life together, from the beginning. It's not all roses. In fact, there aren't a lot of roses at all. From day one, Guido has challenged me and tested my patience. And I wouldn't trade away a moment. Guido is my heart dog. |
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