Gigi, R.I.P.

Our family dog, Gigi, died the other day. Our wonderful vet put her down. She was 15 years old at the time, and we had her since puppyhood.

Gigi was supposed to be my son’s dog, but of course feeding her and training her fell to me. That’s the way it is with family dogs. The parents say they’re getting the dog for the kids, but unless mom wants the dog and raises it like a 4-legged child, family dog ownership can be a calamity.

It’s embarrassing to say, but I embraced Gigi’s presence reluctantly. I didn’t want another dog. I already had Maisie, a nervous, sickly rescue, and a couple of middle aged cats. Yet there we were that Saturday in late October, driving around Mahopac. We had kids in the car, my son and his friend. They begged us to stop in a pet shop (my least favorite place), and before I knew it, we were coming home with a new pet.

Store bought dogs are notoriously unhealthy and not a purchase I recommend, but we got lucky with Gigi even though I’m pretty sure she was born in a puppy mill. Right from the start, she was full of vim and vigor, with intelligence to spare. She housebroke quickly and learned her name and developed a vocabulary. She loved us all, but she was crazy about my son. For years, everything was grand.

Of course Gigi was like every young dog, and she had her moments. One day in the back seat of my car, she ate a Coach handbag. She enjoyed dragging our soiled clothing all over the house, and she was a nuisance at the table, barking and begging for chicken. She ate cat poop. She had a passion for licking shower water off our legs. She could open any unlocked door. She was nosy, and loved going to other peoples’ houses. Once she found a pair of turtles living in someone’s bathroom.

Her biggest joy in life besides food was car rides into town. She was a natural café dog. She loved cars, especially my old Miata, where she rode shotgun with the top down. When she was my only dog, a situation that lasted 6 years, she accompanied me on work interviews and she was always well behaved. At home she had a collection of chewed tennis balls. When he was cooking outdoors, Gigi was my husband’s best friend. Referencing her love of barbecue, my son called her “the grill fiend.” 

Gigi was about well into middle age when we acquired Basil, the crippled pup. Then last winter, we adopted an older Chihuahua from the Westchester SPCA. While not exactly pleased about these interlopers, Gigi gave herself a job, obedience training and helping to housebreak both of them.

My son’s feelings were hurt in the late spring when he came home for a few days and Gigi failed to greet him. That was the day I came to terms with her situation and began to prepare myself for her end.

Caring for an elderly dog is not much different than caring for an elderly person. There were times when I could have been more patient. Gigi suffered memory lapses and was often disoriented. She was pretty blind and deaf. And yet she still enjoyed her walks, her food, and her car rides. Ugly warty lumps and bumps sprang up all over her small body and she developed an itchy skin condition that necessitated near-daily baths. She was depressed but bore it in good grace when I had to lift her into the car or help her up on the bed. In her salad days, she was quite the athlete.

My whole life, I’ve had cats and dogs, and understand lifetime commitments. Fortunately, I’ve had enough experience to know animals tell you when they’re ready to go, and it’s our job to pay attention. The hardest thing is not to human needs get in the way. Many, if not most people try to hang on too long, and a dog will keep trying for you because they hate to to disappoint. Everyone has their own rules about quality of life; for Gigi, I knew it would be when she stopped eating and drinking.

My husband came with us to the vet to say goodbye. It’s a personal decision, but I always stay with my animals through their last breath. Gigi actually seemed to be smiling as Dr. Scott administered the pre-euthanizing sedative. After that it went very quickly, probably less than 2 minutes. Afterwards I helped wrap her in the towel and kissed her head. Then I immediately left.

It’s been a few days and I’ve not stopped thinking of Gigi and what a good girl she was for so many years. I think about is our good times together and all the fun we had. Roger Caras famously said, “Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole.” Gigi, wherever you are, we will always love you.