Man's Best Friend

By Alli Geiger 

For my entire life, I have grown up with dogs. I can not think of a time when there was not one or two dogs in the house. And while the dogs have changed, the presence of a dog was always there. There was Abigail, Gus, Phoebe, and Cole filling the space in our time, house, and hearts. Abigail the basset hound was small but mighty, what she lacked in height she made up in her stubbornness. Basset hounds have the best sense of smell of any of the dog breeds, and while it is known that dogs need a lot of exercise, dogs also need their talents exercised as well. When I was little, one of my parents would take me into the park/woods with them and the other would have Abigail on the leash. They would give her my clothes to smell then she was off tracking me. I was always found. 

I remember the day I lost Abigail very vividly. My mom had rented a movie for my sister and I to watch; it was Barbie Thumbelina. She wanted us to watch it in the basement, unusual that it was not the living room but not too out of place that I thought too hard about it. I was only a little girl. Before we went to watch the movie, my mom had told us to give Abigail lots of love because she was not feeling well. We sat on the floor of my mother’s bathroom, and I said what I did not know was a goodbye. When my sister and I came up from the basement, Abigail was gone. It was years later my mom told me more about her. Abigail was very sick: cancer. She had an everlasting upset stomach with allergies of all the common dog foods. We had to have kangaroo meat dog food shipped in for her. 

Abigail’s partner in crime was Gus. He was a bloodhound, the second-best sense of smell in dogs. He and Abigail were complete opposites. She was short and white with brown spots while he was tall and brown with black spots. But both had long ears and the loudest howl. Not only was his bark booming enough to scare the grown men in my neighborhood, but he also had a snore that could wake up even the heaviest of sleepers. Gus’s name was my first word; I loved him, but I think he was indifferent to me. When I was in grade school, years after Abigail died, I was called into the office. My aunt was there to pick me up, but she would not tell me why the entire car ride. When I arrived, my mother brought me into my father’s office where Gus was laying on the floor. My mom had called me away from school to say goodbye to him. I remember the date, March 2nd, because it was Dr. Suess’s birthday, and I had wanted to see the new movie that was released that day. However, after that day it took me years until I was able to watch it. 

Phoebe was only briefly living in our house. She was a short dog who reminded me of a hyena or painted dog at the zoo. She was scrappy, loud, jumpy, and loved to run away. Phoebe was a lot, but we loved her and brought her home from the shelter. However, she did not get along with Gus. At that point, he was old and cranky. My mom didn’t want the last years of his life to be miserable with an energetic dog constantly trying to annoy him. My aunt adopted Phoebe, and she was always so excited when we came to visit her. My mom didn’t tell me when Phoebe got sick until it was the end.  Out of the blue one day, my mother told me that Phoebe was gone. She also had cancer. 

Then there was Cole. My sweet, loving boy. I was in grade school when my mom took me to the shelter. She had already gone but was bringing me to see the dog she loved. He was very timid and so sweet. The shelter did not know what kind of dog he was, but we think he was a border collie chow mix. Cole looked like an all-black border collie with extra fluff around his neck and purple on his tongue. The shelter said that guessed he was around three years old, and the two of us grew up together. He was my dog. 

The floor of my room always looked so dirty despite how often I vacuumed it because that was wear Cole laid and he shed so bad. He slept there with me at night, sat in the living room with me watching television, we went on walks, played in the grass together, and he was always there when I needed a hug. It wasn’t until about halfway through high school that he started having health problems that we noticed. Cushings disease had made him sluggish and gain a lot of weight. 

Once he was properly medicated, he started acting like a puppy again. He was running and flipping and flopping in the yard. Then it was age that started to get to him. He had arthritis in his hip, and it would give out every now and then, although that never stopped him from flopping and rolling in the grass. He had a large tumor over the entirety of the back of his thigh. He had always waddled when he walked, but with one leg double the side of the other, it was even worse. The vet said it was painless and besides the large size, it didn’t seem to bother him. 

The funniest part of Cole getting old was him losing his sense of hearing. Even when he was young, it was always difficult to get him to come down the stairs in the morning. He needed lots of encouragement and practically a red carpet. It was always a conversation (me talking and him barking) to get him to come down. When his hearing started going away, it made the whole ordeal even bigger. Now he needed clapping and lots of hand gestures to know that it was time to go down the stairs. His bladder also started to give way and he had to start wearing diapers in case he got too excited and couldn’t hold it. 

About two months into my second year of college, I was getting ready to go to an event for my scholarship program. It was one of my favorite events, and I was in the middle of doing my hair when my mom facetimed me. Cole had had a seizure and had lost most of his ability to function, and my mom said he was not going to make it out of the vet. I was sobbing, begging, and spiraling. I was losing a childhood friend. Someone drove me the two hours to the vet, I said goodbye, and had to drive back. The pain I was feeling went so far past just emotional. I was struggling to get air into my lungs. My chest hurt and burned. 

It has been a few weeks since the loss of him, and I still haven’t been home. I don’t know how I am supposed to, for the first time in my life, walk into a house where a dog didn’t live. Once I vacuum my floor, there will never be that black spot again. My walking partner, my snuggle buddy, my friend, is gone. I miss his silly smile, his sass, the feel of his fur in my arms, and the knowledge that he’s there at home waiting for me. I have to keep reminding myself that now he feels better, and that in a way, he is at a final home, and he is waiting on me still. 

Alli Geiger is a McConnell Scholar in the class of 2026. She is studying political science and Arabic at the University of Louisville.