We looked and looked through the dogs, and there was a medium sized scrawny dull brown dog, that was the only dog with any life in his eyes. He was the one I wanted. Mom was skeptical, so she said maybe, and came back the next day and watched him for a while. He was so full of life and energy, she agreed, and in a few days, we had ourselves a new dog.
In my sixth grade sense of humor, I decided that Guess would be the perfect name. If someone asked me what my dog's name would be, hilarity was sure to ensue. Initially Mom was going to call him "Gus" in defiance, but then she realized you had to guess what he was... Black Lab? Whippet? We didn't even know exactly how old he was. Around a year old, give or take a few months. So Guess it was.
We got him home, and realized he was malnourished, and started giving him multi-vitamins in peanut butter. Within a few months, he had gained 20 pounds, and lost all his hair... and it grew back a glossy black. We had what Mom and said we couldn't have, a big black dog.
But he was a blessing in disguise. You'll never meet a more patient dog. We would dress him up and humiliate him, and he loved the attention. A small child would be curious, so he would get down low to the ground so he wouldn't intimidate him. At first he loved getting out and running around the neighborhood. Someone once called the pound when we couldn't get him back right away. The lady who came said he was the first dog to chase her to where he belonged. He just wanted to play! Once we took him camping. After that, he never ran away. I don't know what happened, but suddenly he had an invisible leash, linking him to us.
That leash not only lashed him to us, but us to him. An invisible bond was formed. He didn't play favorites, he loved us all equally (except men in hats, those he did not care for, and made that known). But the night my dad left, obedient Guess, who never slept on beds (and couches only when he thought we were asleep and not watching), climbed up onto Mom's bed and kept her company. He stayed there until he could no longer get onto the bed. And then he slept on the floor next to her. And when he couldn't climb the stairs anymore, he slept at the foot of the stairs. As close to her as he could possibly be.
He had his fair share of medical problems, from seizures, to an invisible spot that kept him in an E-Collar for years, to progressive arthritis. And he never complained. He was always just so happy. As he got older and older, more medical problems arose. But it was never a question, he never seemed in pain, and he couldn't bear to leave us, and we couldn't bear to let him go.
Finally this week, it could no longer be helped. Even with medication, he was having a harder and harder time getting around. For a large dog, 12 or 13 years old is a pretty long time to live. Mom finally had him put to sleep last night.
The time had come, but he is already missed. We knew it was coming, but somehow it's hard to be completely prepared for these things.
Goodbye sweet Guess. You were my first dog, and I loved you dearly.
