Guido

When I was a sophomore in college, my roommate Jeanelle’s dog died. At the time, I couldn’t understand why she was so upset about the death, but now, I understand why. When Guido became the family pet 15 ½ years ago, I never knew he would impact my life so greatly. To know Guido was to love him, and his story must be told.

Guido was born on Groundhog’s Day 2005, but he didn’t become the Lehman family pet until May 2005. Guido was a gift from my mom’s friend Cindy, who inherited him from her friend. Long story short, Cindy had adopted Guido’s brother and did not want two dogs. His name was Tiger when we got him, but we knew he wasn’t a tiger. The family went through quite a few names (and tags) before settling on Guido. Truthfully, I had always wanted his name to be Guido, but I am not the most outspoken member of my family. My mom and I had just seen the musical Nine at Meredith, and our new dog looked like the main character of the play—weird comparison I know—so, I knew that was his name.

Guido has always been the dog of a million nicknames, and every nickname fit him for a different reason. Guidini– Guido hated being kenneled and could find his way out of any kennel we ever put him in. When he was a puppy, we zip tied his soft kennel shut, and he got out of it with the zip ties still intact. I carabined the door of his metal kennel shut after he figured out to unlock the kennel door with his nose. One day while I was as work, I closed him in the bathroom, and I came home he was sitting on the living room couch. To this day, I still don’t know how he did that. Bob Barker- When Guido was a puppy, he barked at everything, and he wouldn’t stop. At one point, we got him a shock collar, and he figured out that if he barked at a low enough frequency, he wouldn’t get shocked. It didn’t stay on long. Walter- as Guido aged, he became grumpy. He reminded me of Walter Mathieu’s character in Grumpy Old Men, so I began calling him Walter. Then other people started calling him Walter. There were more: G-Man, Guids, The Guid to name a few. The name I gave him:  was Guido Franchetti Lehman.  I spelled Franchitti wrong when Guido was a puppy, but He answered to both 😉

Guido was the family pet for a couple years until my mom got Bambalina in May 2007. In July 2007, I returned home from Greece, and Guido became mine. I was off on a new life adventure, and he was by my side. We moved into my first adult apartment, and it was just me and him. Whenever something bad happened and I cried, Guido was right by my side to comfort me. Guido was not cuddly. In fact, he hated it. He would heavily sigh and walk away if I tried to cuddle him. Truthfully, I am not one for cuddling, but I would cuddle him just to annoy him. But, if I ever didn’t feel well or was sad, he would cuddle.

Another thing Guido wasn’t: a player. He didn’t really play with toys. I would buy him ropes and stuffed animals, and he never touched them. It was quite discouraging, actually.  Every year, on his birthday, I would buy him a stuffed groundhog, since his birthday was February 2^nd. He never touched them. He would lay with the stuffed animals on my bed, but he never tried to tear them. However, if a toy had a squeaker, and he heard it, he would tear it out. He hated the sound of squeakers. Guido also hated when I watched sports. I get pretty intense, and I often clap loudly, or let out cheers. He would hide whenever a game was on. And he loved pillows. I have a few (at least 6) pillows on my bed, and I would always find Guido in his spot, on my pillows. He knew I hated it, and he would try to pretend he wasn’t sitting on them, but the little white feathers in his fur gave him away.

Guido went to Indiana for Graduate School with me. There were days I was gone 18 hours a day. He handled it like a trooper. I always felt guilty when I was gone so long, and I tried to find ways to make my time away shorter. He was always an adventurous little thing. In Indiana, he learned how to climb a ladder and sit in a tree house. He also learned what it was like to be taken care of by deaf people. He was there for me when my best friend, Rachael, suddenly passed away. Guido lived in Utah with me. I discovered what love and heartache were. He was right there with me. He loved that boyfriend, so in a lot of ways, the breakup was just as difficult for him. He rode on a plane. He rode in a Jeep. He ate a bottle of dog medicine and had to go to an emergency vet. (He tore out his IV, oh Guido.) We went hiking and swimming in the Great Salt Lake. We spent a lot of time at the dog park, though he’d sit under the bench a lot. Haha. Guido loved being outside, but he didn’t like walking. Whenever I would walk him, and he didn’t want to walk anymore, he would sit on the sidewalk and stop moving. Guido walked a lot of miles with me. In Utah, he learned from the whippets how to trash surf, and he learned pumpkins could be bigger than him. Our Halloween tradition of wearing matching costumes began here, and Guido hated it every time. He kept his shark costume on in 2019 for about 3 minutes.

In Utah, we discovered he was afraid of thunderstorms (which I had always been suspect of), and reaffirmed he didn’t like the cold. Then we went back home…well, to the beach. Guido did not enjoy the beach. I think it was the wind. I learned he liked people, but when he wanted to be around them (as you are reading this, I am sure you are thinking: just like his mom. Guido was the dog version of me in many ways). Then, we trekked to Pennsylvania to be closer to the family. Guido loved riding in the car, but had to sit on my lap, and often scratched my legs. He also loved riding around on the golf cart with my dad. He would climb in the seat and sit and wait. He loved my dad. But, his person was my mom. He would ditch me in a heartbeat for my mom. Then, we went back home to NC, where I think he was most happy. Probably because I was most happy at home. We weathered some hurricanes and some ice storms. I learned to love baseball and hockey. Guido was okay with baseball, not so much hockey. We spent 3 good years with my friend, Emily, and then she decided to get married. I began my Doctorate degree. I usually worked in the living room, and Guido would sit on the other side of the couch. He was always ready for bed before I was. Usually, he would go into the bedroom. Or, he would sit on the edge of the couch, sigh, and look at me sadly. In my dissertation acknowledgements I wrote, “…to my Guido, whom I neglected most during the last couple years; you were always by my side, my study buddy.” Yep, I acknowledged my dog.

We moved to a house with a big yard and lots of wildlife. Guido loved to chase the bunnies, but, try as I may, he would not chase the birds. We saw deer regularly. The wildlife, in my opinion, was Guido’s undoing. Until this past July, the family always joked that Guido would outlive us all, just to spite us all. This year he had been showing that he was older. He moved less, slept more, but he had moments where he was a young puppy again. He would run through the yard, and chase me to the mailbox. His eyes had begun to cloud, and he was losing his hearing (except when food was involved). He waited at the front door, if I left him inside when I went to check the mail. 

On Independence Day, Guido came with me to my parents’ house. While we were there, he rolled around in the grass, played in the sprinkler, and licked Dad’s grill brush (which Dad loved so much). The day after, he was lying around. He began to pet him, and found a gigantic tick on him. I removed the tick, placing in a plastic bag. I kept the tick in the bag for a couple weeks, and then threw it away. Guido was acting normal, so no reason to keep the tick. Guido began to eat his morning food later in the day, but I thought maybe he didn’t have an appetite in the morning. He was still licking my plater (one of his favorite things to do) at night. On the Thursday (ten days before he passed), I called my mom and asked her to check on him because he hadn’t eaten anything. She told me she had hand fed him to get him to eat, but he ate his dinner normal, so again, I thought nothing of it. It wasn’t until the following Wednesday I felt something was wrong. He began losing his faculties on the floor while I was gone at work (something he rarely did). Thursday, I went out with my friend. Before she came, I carried him outside to go to the bathroom. When I came home, I bought him some wet food (ew) because he hadn’t eaten all day. He scarfed it up. Friday, he was back to normal, spryer. Friday, I called and made him a vet appointment, but I couldn’t get him in until the following Tuesday. I figured if the vet wasn’t super worried about his lack of eating, he would be fine until Tuesday. I tried to get him in sooner, but there were no appointments. By Friday night, he had a fever, so I gave him a cool bath and some children’s medicine. He also looked as if he couldn’t hold his legs up when he went to the bathroom. Saturday, I called my dad at about 12 because Guido hadn’t eaten. I said I might have to take him to the emergency vet. I decided to wait; the medicine seemed to be helping. He had eaten some pepperoni. Later that night, he threw the pepperoni up, and the fever was back. I climbed into the bathtub with him, and cried as I held him under the cold water. He ate some more pepperoni, and I wrapped an ice pack on him. The fever went down. He sat next to me, as I watched my virtual graduation. I pet him and told him I loved him. He lay on my bed, in front of the fan, Saturday night.

When I woke up Sunday morning, he was in his hiding spot, the closet. I picked him up, and he felt limp. Again, he was hot. So, I gave him some medicine. I, again, crawled with him in the bathtub and took a cold shower. I placed him on my bed, in front of the fan. I had called my dad when I found him in the closet, and we agreed to call the emergency vet. They didn’t answer. Later that night, after another cold bath, Guido was lying on his spot in my bed. That day, I didn’t care. He began to seizure. I didn’t know what to do. I called the emergency vet to ask what to do, and while I was on the phone, Guido had another seizure and passed away. The vet asked me if I was sure. I said I could tell his body was stiff and his tongue was sticking out. 10:35, 7/19/2020. The moment will live in my memory forever. The vet told me I needed to bring him in, so they could take care of his afterlife. I called my dad in tears. Twenty minutes later he showed up at my house, and asked me what I needed him to do. He followed me in the house and wrapped Guido in a towel.

Waiting in the parking lot for the vet’s office was almost as traumatic as watching Guido pass. There I was, holding my dead dog, in my lap. Bawling. Thinking how heavy he was. My dad, Guido, and I sat in the parking lot of the vet’s office for 40 minutes, while the vet got my information. They asked me if Guido was neutered, and what color he was, which at that point, I didn’t think mattered. He was not alive. Finally, they sent a vet tech out, who gently took Guido from my arms, being careful not to hit his head on the car door; talking to him, and calling him “buddy,” and then he was gone. My poor dad, who I am sure wasn’t sure what to do because I am his least emotional child, and I was pretty hysterical, lovingly hugged me. When I got home, I talked to my mom on the phone. Guido and I had a deal, see. I told him he had to die at night, so I could go to work, and my mom would take care of it, while I was gone. But, as usual, he sided with my mom because she didn’t want to do it, and he died while she was in Oklahoma.

I have done some research since his passing, and I truly feel like that tick, or another one from all the deer in my yard, gave him Lyme Disease. He had all the symptoms. While I knew his death was going to come, the quickness of it, surprised me. I felt guilty I had not taken him into the vet sooner, but my dad reminded me that if I would have taken him to the emergency vet, they would have probably put him down. Even though I was sad I couldn’t take him into the vet, I am grateful I got to cuddle him and love him his last day on Earth. I also felt guilty because 2020 I had been terrible. I had been angry and sad, and he had gotten the brunt of it. That wasn’t fair to him. He didn’t deserve that (I feel like he always got the brunt of my frustration, poor guy, but he loved me anyway). I felt guilty I didn’t spend more time with him, especially at the end. We were both independent creatures and liked our alone time. I felt guilty I hadn’t noticed the warning signs sooner, but they happened so fast. I felt guilty that my morning routine would be shorter, and it would be easier to travel, without him. I felt horrible for having hope he’d be around longer. I also felt guilty his stomach was empty-ish when he passed, and that I froze when he had his seizure. There was a lot of guilt, about a lot of different things. I should have been a better pet parent; I should have loved him more. I have been reminded, though, that Guido led a good life; he knew he was loved. As I wrote this, I realized what adventures he truly had been on. He was a great companion, and he will be missed. He is missed. It’s normal to grieve, and that grief will come in stages.

Guido and I learned a lot of life lessons together. We went through a lot of tough times and some great ones, too. My mom said Guido waited until I officially graduated to pass on.

Four days later, his ashes were ready. I wanted them to be with me, so he can always be with me, no matter where I go. Just like he always was. I couldn’t have him buried in some random cemetery in a town I have no connection to. And my parents aren’t planning on staying in their house, so I can’t bury him there. I don’t want to stay in this house forever, so he’ll be with me no matter where I go. With his ashes, came a little card that talks about how your pet has crossed over The Rainbow Bridge. It says, “the animals chase and play…” Clearly, the writer didn’t know Guido. That dog has found a bench somewhere, is heavily sighing, and waiting until we are together again.

I’ve heard people say that animals don’t have personalities. Well, they’re wrong. Guido had a big one. Kind of like his mom. Here are some things you should know about that personality:

–Guido hated the groomer, but loved getting his haircut. He was a different dog with shorter hair. When his hair was longer, he let me know he didn’t like it by being really naughty. I felt guilty that he died with long hair, and I didn’t get him groomed before he passed. He also spent hours grooming himself and would often get hairballs like a cat.

–He drank when he was bored. My family gave me a lot of flak because I left his water bowl empty, but he would drink gallons if I let him. I once had one of those refillable water bowls, and he would empty it in a short period of time. He just liked drinking water. When I got a pool on my back deck, he would sneak around and drink from the pool.

–He had a habit of wandering through the neighborhoods I lived in. Just greeting the neighbors.

–Guido loved popcorn and watermelon. He and I would always share both.

–When I exercised, he lay on the floor and stared at me the entire time, like he was my supervisor or coach.

–When I think of Guido, I think of the color red.

–Guido only lay in my bed when I was gone or busy. When I was on it, he would leave the bed and go somewhere else.

How do you fit 15.5 years of life into words? I have a memory box of Guido’s things in my spare room. But most of his things, I gave away. It’s too hard to look at, and know he’s not here. That he will never greet me at the door with his wagging tail again. My mom is making me a shadowbox with his footprint and some of my favorite memories of him. My friend Lori’s daughter, Faith, drew me a picture of Guido, and my sister Beka is making me some digital artwork.  I have been thinking of getting a Cuddle Clone, which is a stuffed  replica of your dog, but they are expensive. Guido will be remembered.

I joke that Guido decided 2020 sucked, so he decided to peace out. He put up a good fight until the end. Last Friday, 8/14/2020, my sister’s dog, Abby (Crabby Abby as she was affectionately known), suddenly passed away. I am sure she and Guido had a grand reunion in heaven, and they are waiting for their family to return. My friend recently posted, “the love of a dog, from a dog, to a dog….nothing compares! And that love sticks with you even when they pass on.” I know that Guido can never be replaced. He was my only dog. My brother said when I was ready to get a new dog, he’ll help pick one out with me. The thing is: I am not getting a new dog, unless it’s a carbon copy of Guido. I’ll get a fish (a pet shark), and then there will be no emotional attachment.

I could write so much more, but I could never really put into words what Guido truly meant to me.

***There are a lot of pictures in this post of some of my favorite moments together.