This is goodbye for my little guy.

This is it for my little Gibson I’m sorry to say. I have just booked his final Vet visit. Monday afternoon, May 10 at 3 pm I will be holding him for the last time.

Gibson and I have had rocky relationship. We are both head-strong and wilful and neither of us likes being told what to do….not a good combination. Especially when I’m supposed to be the human and he’s supposed to be the dog. For the first 2 years of his life I’m sure Gibson thought his name was "I'm Going To @$##ing Kill You" !! Many times it looked as if we were acting out a scene from the shoot-out at the O.K Corral….eyeballing one another from across the room, waiting to see who would shoot first. At times I’m sure you could hear the theme music from The Good, The Bad and The Ugly playing off in the distance as we stared one another down. Even if I won the show-down I would inevitably loose. Make no mistake about it…Gibson is a vengeful Yorkie. He would rather eat glass than concede. I may have won the battle but he would never let me win the war. Ever. A friend of mine once called Gibson a “quirky little fellow”. No truer words were ever spoken.

Who am I kidding? Gibson was never really mine anyway. He was Cooper’s dog. Cooper was this big beautiful Briard dog that I was lucky enough to have in my life for almost 17 years. Cooper was special. A one in a million dog. He was 6 years old when I got Gibson and instantly Gibson imprinted onto him. Wherever Cooper went, there was Gibson. I soon learned that if I wanted Gibson to come, first I had to call Cooper to me. Cooper would come instantly with Gibson trotting along after him. Cooper would sit Gibson would sit. Cooper would lie down Gibson would lie down. And that’s the way things went until a few years ago, just about this time, I had to put Cooper, the love of my life, down. He had a great life. He almost made it to 17 years and that’s pretty amazing. I was shattered and I still miss him very much. At the time I thought Gibson would miss him terribly too, but that was not the case. Gibson didn’t miss a beat. Moved right into top dog position and loved every minute of it. Cooper who? But it was like trying to get to know a stranger who’s been living under your roof. Take away the only thing Gibson and I had in common and, well, you have two creatures set in their ways. For the past 13 years my relationship with Gibson has been one of concession and resignation. I give Gibson a command and he immediately ignores it and does whatever the hell he wants. Rather than break a blood vessel getting him do be compliant I concede. Rather than try to teach a stubborn, wilful and selfish dog a new trick, I’m resigned to the fact that he has never and will never listen to what I say so I should just never ask anything of him in the first place. In return he lets me feed him and scoop up his poop. Everyone wins.

Having said that, my Gibson is sick. Liver problems. Probably a tumour. It’s an exercise in futility to try to keep him propped up. Maybe because I put Cooper to sleep 2 years ago that now it’s easier for me to see the humane reason behind accepting that Gibson has lived a full life and that it’s time to let him go, I’m not sure. I know that I will not let Gibson be operated on and I will not pump him full of steroids so that he can keep on existing.
I have to let him go. He’s shivering. He’s stopped eating. The exact same symptoms he suffered a month ago when he spent 3 days in the animal hospital. It took him a week to recover and I just can’t do it again. Not to him and not to me.
In some strange way Gibson has taught me how to get over myself…how to let go. There’s no way he would ever stoop to obey any command of mine…not even if it meant imminent death, so I should just let go. Out of habit I will tell him to sit or stay and out of habit he will do the opposite…..somehow we’ve become an old married couple. Even now as I call him to me for a cuddle the shivering, grumpy Yorkie looks at me and walks away. I smile.
For the next two days I will keep him close and keep him comfortable. I will tear up when I look at him and hold him closer and he will look at me with a doggy look akin to “what the f*ck is wrong with you?”.


I can’t figure out why I can’t finish this blog….maybe because I’m not ready to be finished with Gibson. There’s just so much more to say about this complex little dog. Oh sure he’s a selfish, grumpy, wilful, little shit…but, in all honesty, for the past 13 years he has been my selfish, grumpy, wilful, little shit….and I love him for it.