RIP Gidget (2/7/2017)


Hubby and I want to thank everyone for the kind words and prayers and energy from everyone. Unfortunately, when the vet did surgery yesterday, he found Gidget had several masses, the cancer was in her lymph nodes even, and there was actually a section of her intestines close to perforation from one of the masses. This was in addition to the aortic aneurysm she also had. He called us during surgery with our options, but the prognosis, even if he tried to remove what he could, wasn’t good based on what he was seeing. This was in addition to other things they’d found on the ultrasounds they did on Monday.

We opted to have him close her up and bring her out of sedation so we thought maybe we could at least bring her home one last time to have a couple more days with her. But when he showed us pictures of everything he found, we knew that would have been cruel to keep her suffering, and possibly risk her intestines rupturing which would have been horrific.

They let us have as much time as we needed with her to love up on her and tell her what a good girl she was. She gave us several kisses, and we told her that she’d succeeded in her efforts for wurld domynayshun, and that she was elected in a unanimous landslide and the whole world was now her minun. (That was a running joke we had, that she was going to dominayte the wurld.) We held her in our laps and cuddled with her and talked to her and were able to get my son on FaceTime so he could talk to her, too, and get to see her.

And they’d kept the catheter in her leg from surgery, so they didn’t even have to do another needle stick. As we held her and told her what a good girl she was and how much we loved her, we sent her to the Rainbow Bridge to join our other furbabies there.

We’re devastated, even my dad was in shock because he was here most of the weekend fixing our window sills and except for puking a couple of times, Gidget was bouncy and active and had energy. But she’d started refusing food totally Sunday night and vomited pretty bad. So she’d hid her condition from us pretty well, which the vet told us sometimes with small dogs, it’s almost like they’re cats in that way, so you don’t know something’s REALLY wrong until it’s too late.

She was part of my morning “G-Team” of when I’d get up, she and Grimmy would come greet me in the bathroom and tell me good morning. She was Hubby’s morning buddy before I got up, sitting in his lap or curling up by his desk. She laid with us at night watching TV. She was very expressive and would even stick her tongue out at us. She knew where the cookie jar was and would sit there, staring up at where it was on the counter, even though she couldn’t actually SEE the jar from her angle on the floor.

When we first got her, she was a rescue, and her name had been Gigi. The woman showed up at our door, basically handed her to me, and said HERE. And then…ran. That was in August of 2007, and she was about a year, less than two, at that time. She curled up in a tight ball on the back of our couch and fear growled at us for the first forty-eight hours. No biting, just terrified. I was able to track down a previous owner who said she had separation anxiety and would destroy stuff.

But we worked with her, I took her through training classes, and she was an incredibly smart dog. Even took to agility amazingly well. And one of the first things I did, within forty-eight hours of getting her, was rename her Gidget. (Which she took to immediately, as if she knew she wasn’t a Gigi.) After the training classes, the instructor, who’d seen her go from a growling, bristling ball, to a happy, sweet, loving dog, said she couldn’t believe Gidget was the same dog and wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t seen the transformation with her own eyes.

She’d just needed the right home and family. (And I’d tracked down that she’d had at least three or four owners before we got her.)

She was my writing buddy, curled up in her sock monkey bed here in my office every day with me. In the early days, she’d sneak up onto my desk and drink coffee out of my mug when I was out of the room. (I finally caught her doing it one day.)

She was brilliant and loving and adorable. Sweet, amazing. Our first Christmas with her, she watched Hubby decorating our tree. Then we had to go out and he didn’t get her crate locked and we came home to find she’d dragged two strings of lights, a bag of ornament hooks, and a box of ornaments into her crate.

She knew what they were for but just didn’t have a way of putting them together to decorate her crate.

She was my little “ventriloquist dog,” and I’d do the voice for her while “she” talked to Hubby and son (or even sometimes Sir got sucked into it) and it was like she was really talking, her facial expressions and how perfect she was.
She was Hubby’s Buckeye buddy, going nuts and eager to put her OSU jersey on when it was game day, her and Hubby both wearing matching ones. She LOVED dressing up. If I had a Petsmart bag and she smelled something in it, she’d dive into it and pull out HER costume. If you held up one of her outfits, she’d go nuts like she was saying PUT IT ON ME NOW!!!!! My mom knitted her sweaters for when it got chilly and she loved them. It was a fight to get them off her. None of our other dogs enjoyed costumes or “clothes” so we never did that to them.

Gidget LOVED outfits. LOVED them.

And I based Chewi, Rebecca’s dog in my book Chains, on Gidget. The conversations Rebecca has with Chewi are similar in nature to the ones I had with Gidget.

When Hubby had to go out of town to visit his mom in Ohio, Gidget would (if she hadn’t slept in bed with me) rise up on her hind legs and peek at me over the edge of the bed when she sensed I was awake. Then she’d get up on the bed (if she wasn’t already) and always stand there, staring down at me. “Wumman, U are my hooman while my daddy is gone, U must walk me. Get yer ass up.”

At least with most of our previous dogs, we had time to prepare for the end. We knew it was coming, it was still sucky, but at least it wasn’t a gut-punch shock when it happened. We’d had sometimes months to prepare until we could tell it was time to make that heart-wrenching decision.

We didn’t have enough time with Gidget. It wasn’t nearly enough time. We only had just under ten years with her, and she was our baby. I thought we’d have years more with her. We can’t bear to take down her crate yet, and I won’t move her bed from my office.

I…can’t.

She was our last dog (now we have the six cats, two birds, and Sheldon the wonder minion tortoise). I’ve never in my life not had a dog, but honestly, right now, I don’t know if I even can. Hubby’s getting up there in years, and with my health, I don’t think it’d be wise for us to get another one, not even a small one. Maybe one day, I don’t know. I know people always say give it time, you’ll find another to love, but right now, no, I can’t.

Right now, our hearts are shattered and I don’t have the energy to do much more than breathe, and that’s only because I’ve loaded myself full of Xanax so I can stay vertical and function. Everything hurts, not just physically but spiritually and emotionally. We opted for private cremation and they make a little ceramic pawprint too, so we’ll get her ashes back in about a week or so and she’ll join all the others on the shelf.

We love you, Gidget. Our little Gidgey-goo, Gidge-midge, and Wurld Domynayshun Dawg. Princess Gidget. Our sweet little baby girl.

I know our other furbabies greeted her with wags and licks when she arrived at the Rainbow Bridge.

And if the Universe is kind, hopefully, one day, we’ll be reunited with her and all the others.

18 thoughts on “RIP Gidget (2/7/2017)

  1. I am so sorry for your loss, our fur-babies mean so much to us. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.

  2. I was tearing up as I opened this link, and am just a sobbing mess. I had to laugh through my tears at what she did that first Christmas, and a video you posted a couple months ago about retrieving cat toys, when she kept nudging, as if to say ‘no, that’s not the right one. Get the right toy.’
    World domination is Gidget’s today, and always.
    hugs

  3. I am also crying for your loss, Losing a companion is so hard. They give us so much unconditional love, entertainment and comfort. You must allow yourselves time to grieve this totally shocking loss before even considering a new dog. Right now all the family is in loss mode even the furry siblings as they know part of their pack is missing. In the future who knows, but take your time for yourselves, blessings.

  4. I, too, share my tears as I read this beautiful bit of the life you’ve had with your sweet Gidget. She sounds so sweet, full of attitude, and like a perfect addition to your family, no matter how she first got to you. Her drinking your coffee and decorating her crate for Christmas made me laugh thru tears and I hope those memories keep you warm forever. I feel blessed to have read Chains and got to read that small glimpse of her thru Chewy. As a pet parent who has lost two of my three girls (cats) in the last two years after 13 & 15 years with them, I know how those years never seem like long enough. You and your family are in my thoughts. And I have to add, your vet sounds like a really wonderful person to be so honest and yet so caring. Gentle hugs to you and yours…

  5. I am ever so sorry for your loss Tymber. Our animal family gets so wove into our lives that our family is so much more family with them within it. I can never imagine our lives without them. They link us to our humanity, empathy and compassion for all living creatures. You have so many great memories of love Sending you and your family love & light.

  6. My thoughts and prayers are with you and yours. It is always hard to lose a crybaby. Know that she is not in pain or suffering any more. Love and hugs to all.

  7. Gidge loved you so much, she waited until it was too late to do anything but exactly what you did to send her gracefully to God. You will be reunited again when the time comes and while you will always grieve, try to remember the joy you brought each other, knowing that love prevails.

  8. I am so sorry to hear of the loss of Gidget. Her antics have certainly kept us entertained over the years, & they are only the stories you told us about. Our fur babies leave a hole so much bigger than themselves when they do finally leave us. I was in tears reading this & my heart is breaking for you all

  9. I am so sorry for your loss. Gidget sounds like the best dog/kid ever. I am glad you were
    given an opportunity to say goodbye and lots of love. Hugs to you and your family
    in your grieving time.

  10. I am so sorry for your loss. It is horrible it lose a fur-baby. My thoughts are with you.

  11. I grieve with you and your family because it was so obvious from your writing just how loved, respected and cared for Gidget was and how much she adored you all in return. And I can’t help wondering if she didn’t hide how sick she was from you out of love for her.

    I completely feel your pain. I faced nearly an identical situation with my beloved cat Topaz back in October last year and I had to make the same decision – he had a massive tumour on his spinal column that was making him completely lame in his back legs. It’s devastating and I just have to hug my remaining cat Bella and my rascal of a bunny Indianna and appreciate all the more having them in my life for as long as I have them.

    Please accept my love, condolences, sympathy and a huge cyber hug (*hug*). I wish I could do more to help ease your way through this time because anyone who can rescue an animal who is wounded and heal them body and soul is someone amazing. Take care of yourself because you know Gidget would really expect you to. xxx

  12. I am so sorry for your loss. My prayers for strength and emotional healing are with you and your family. Breathe, cherish your loved ones, and like someone else posted, treasure your good memories and know that your darling was loved and happy.

  13. I have 6 babies crossed that Rainbow Bridge to the brightest sunshine, coolest shade and most lush grass. They’ve been playing with my Great Aunt’s giant pack of dogs, cats, bunnies, birds and my Great Aunt, telling them all, ‘go play’. I’m sure now she’s telling them all there’s a new sheriff in town, her name is Gidget, and they are each bringing toys as tribute for their adorable new Ruler.
    No matter how old, they are forever babies, innocent, full of endless compassion and unconditional love. And they know when they have truly found it in return.
    My deepest sympathies to your whole family. Puppy kisses to you all from my two fur babies.
    Go play and lead the pack Gidget.

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