Saying Goodbye to Gunther: A Love Story

This hasn’t been easy but, it was it worth it

Sometimes the best decisions in life come with a nearly empty bank account and a full heart. That’s how I met Gunther.

I was single, barely adulting, and definitely not “dog-ready”…or so I thought. But fate had other plans when my friend dragged me to look at the dogs after our failed cat-finding mission. “What could be the harm?” I wondered. Famous last words.

Always go take a look at the dogs

The shelter was small, just five cages of bouncing, yapping puppies. But in the last cage sat Gunther, recently surrendered from Carson City, looking at me like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment. I crouched down, our eyes met, and I wept. Right there, in front of God and everybody, bawling like we were long-lost souls finally reunited.

Me and Baby G, October 2012

One walk and some paperwork later, I handed over my card, leaving exactly three dollars in my account. In return, I got a 40-pound, 4-month-old goofball who would grow into a 100-pound beast. He could’ve been an elephant, and I still would’ve figured it out.

Like anything in life, you will figure it out

And figure it out I did. Armed with a borrowed dog-training book and pockets perpetually filled with treats (for two whole years!) I dove into doggy parenthood. Everyone told me, “Don’t let him on the furniture!” Yeah, that rule lasted a whopping five months. Sorry not sorry.

There was a point after getting all the required dog paraphernalia and settling into our life together, I made the very “real” realization he wouldn’t be around forever. That every-single-moment was to be rejoiced and celebrated. So, that we did.

Dog training school was… interesting. Gunther made it clear he wasn’t a fan, especially when the trainer tried the old chain-dropping trick to cure his leash aggression. Turns out, maybe he just wasn’t a leash guy?

His recall was decent unless something more interesting caught his attention — then it was bark city, sending random strangers jumping out of their skin. (To all those startled hikers over the years: my sincerest apologies!)

Adapt to your dog’s personality

Our solution? Forest adventures. Deep into the woods we’d go, where his size and enthusiasm wouldn’t terrify the general public. He even carried his own water in a doggy backpack, though this might have contributed to both ACL replacements later on. Along with barreling through feet of snow like a serpent, and bagging all the surrounding peaks in the Lake Tahoe basin.

Gunther and the doggy backpack that did not slow him down. Overlooking Fannette island in Emerald Bay on top of Maggie’s Peaks, Lake Tahoe

He wasn’t just a dog, he was my companion and boy did he have *opinions* about my dating life. He made his disapproval of one boyfriend crystal clear… nothing says “I don’t like you” quite like strategic midnight wall-peeing and sneaking off to create white carpet-pooping incidents.

But when Clint came along? I became chopped liver. Their bromance was so pure it made my heart explode.

Their lives are short

For 12.5 years, this gentle giant (nicknamed “Bear” for obvious reasons along with a dozen other names) was our everything. Sure, he could sound fierce when the UPS driver dared to exist near our fence, but this was the same dog who would wake us with gentle nose boops, jumping on the couch to pile his hundred pounds of weight on us and lean against our legs- the quintessential doggy “I love you.”

When bone cancer came calling, we knew amputation wasn’t an option…not with his size and history. We made him comfortable with medication, mushroom supplements, and a borrowed kids’ bike carrier for his beloved lake visits. He got five more months of stick-chewing and swimming before he let us know it was time.

Gunther and his stick. Or log, rather.

Now our house is too quiet. No more snoring symphonies, no click-clack of nails on hardwood floors, no hopeful glances at the treat cupboard (he trained US!) He even got so audacious in his older age, he would “yell” at us pointing to the freezer for his frozen banana treats.

There’s a Gunther-shaped hole in our hearts that will never quite heal. But, if this is the price you pay for such a blessing, such a gift of 12.5 years… We are ok with that.

Rest easy, Angel Bear. You were one in a zillion.

. . .

Questions? Comments? Suggestions?

Have you had a bond with a furry friend that came to an end? Saying goodbye isn’t easy but it is part of the arrangement of all the joy from the time spent with such a beloved pet… I could talk alllll day about dogs…

Need help with your copywriting needs? —->

Or if that’s not your jam, fill out the form below :)

Fact check: I strive for accuracy and fairness… if something is off, please send a shout! Kp@kpcopy.com