Damn Dog
We didn’t need a damn dog!
Everything was chaotic enough as it was. We were barely scraping by, and had no idea where we were going. The apartment was too cramped, the area too dilapidated, and I didn’t think I had much more to give. I wasn’t sure about us, or even myself.
You gave us a sense of order, needing your walks and your food, and your brushings, and your play. You didn’t eat much, didn’t mind doing without fancy toys, and managed to stay healthy when we couldn’t afford the vet. You always knew where we should be going: out on a walk where all that mattered was being a part of the world, and being out in it with the people you loved. There was plenty of room for a little dog, and everything is the Taj Mahal to you. When I didn’t have anything left, you gave me some of yours, and whatever I had was always enough for you. You loved us both together, and you loved us each the same when we split apart. Most of all you were sure about me. Sure I was your man, like you were my dog.
I hate that damn dog!
You stole the best piece of steak off my plate. You tie me down to the apartment and keep me from being out like I want. You shed everywhere. You bark all the time. You’re always underfoot. You’re taking away my daughters attention and love.
But you showed me that everybody wants the same things in life, and just need to be trained to accept what’s theirs, and share what we can. And, of course, that steak is the greatest thing ever (next to bacon). You remind me that home is about love, and duty, and that shouldering responsibility is what’s rewarding in life. You remind me that I don’t need to walk alone, and that others would like to be out sharing life with me if I’d only let them. You show me the importance of keeping things clean, and not neglecting hygiene (yours or mine). You watched over our space, always letting me know what was going on that my limited senses couldn’t hear or smell or see. You demonstrate what it means to want to be with someone, always. You didn’t divide her attention and love, you showed me a way to multiply it and share joy with her.
Crazy damn dog!
You attack balloons like they were a mortal enemy. You got aggressive, like a crazy dog. You broke a leash in order to chase a wolf hybrid…all the way across Vancouver. You loved being out in the sun. You ‘talk’ like a Mogwai sings.
People are too concerned with pride and appearances…sometimes balloons just need chasing. People need to not judge too quickly, and understand that when someone is sick or bothered they act out – but they don’t mean it, and with a little love and understanding everything gets better. Size isn’t as important as dedication to defending your people…after all, the wolf ran from you. It’s important to remember our roots, and where we came from (you were a southern California dog after all…but I never held that against you). Just because people don’t speak the same language doesn’t mean we shouldn’t exercise our voice and express ourselves.
What a weird damn dog.
You ate fruit and melons and things no dog likes. You had occasional rigid seizures, and breath beyond belief. You went two years without seeing Caitlyn and didn’t skip a beat, but were a puppy again the moment she came back (even at 12 years old). You stayed by my side, loving me and my family the same, even through all my selfishness, business, stress, and change.
You taught me not to assume, not to generalize, and that everybody likes sweet things. You helped me accept that with age come problems, and no one is perfect, but with love it’s only a passing inconvenience. You reminded me that distance and time cannot challenge love and family. You demonstrated that love is absolute, and eternal, and while we can’t always have things the way we want we shouldn’t ever want to be anywhere but where we belong. That's why I stayed with you, and held you, right through the end.
You were the finest damn dog
I ever shared my life with.
Thank you for sharing yours with me.
I will always LOVE YOU, and MISS YOU.
RIP Mickey Guttormsen
~1999 – Feb 28, 2012
We didn’t need a damn dog!
Everything was chaotic enough as it was. We were barely scraping by, and had no idea where we were going. The apartment was too cramped, the area too dilapidated, and I didn’t think I had much more to give. I wasn’t sure about us, or even myself.
You gave us a sense of order, needing your walks and your food, and your brushings, and your play. You didn’t eat much, didn’t mind doing without fancy toys, and managed to stay healthy when we couldn’t afford the vet. You always knew where we should be going: out on a walk where all that mattered was being a part of the world, and being out in it with the people you loved. There was plenty of room for a little dog, and everything is the Taj Mahal to you. When I didn’t have anything left, you gave me some of yours, and whatever I had was always enough for you. You loved us both together, and you loved us each the same when we split apart. Most of all you were sure about me. Sure I was your man, like you were my dog.
I hate that damn dog!
You stole the best piece of steak off my plate. You tie me down to the apartment and keep me from being out like I want. You shed everywhere. You bark all the time. You’re always underfoot. You’re taking away my daughters attention and love.
But you showed me that everybody wants the same things in life, and just need to be trained to accept what’s theirs, and share what we can. And, of course, that steak is the greatest thing ever (next to bacon). You remind me that home is about love, and duty, and that shouldering responsibility is what’s rewarding in life. You remind me that I don’t need to walk alone, and that others would like to be out sharing life with me if I’d only let them. You show me the importance of keeping things clean, and not neglecting hygiene (yours or mine). You watched over our space, always letting me know what was going on that my limited senses couldn’t hear or smell or see. You demonstrate what it means to want to be with someone, always. You didn’t divide her attention and love, you showed me a way to multiply it and share joy with her.
Crazy damn dog!
You attack balloons like they were a mortal enemy. You got aggressive, like a crazy dog. You broke a leash in order to chase a wolf hybrid…all the way across Vancouver. You loved being out in the sun. You ‘talk’ like a Mogwai sings.
People are too concerned with pride and appearances…sometimes balloons just need chasing. People need to not judge too quickly, and understand that when someone is sick or bothered they act out – but they don’t mean it, and with a little love and understanding everything gets better. Size isn’t as important as dedication to defending your people…after all, the wolf ran from you. It’s important to remember our roots, and where we came from (you were a southern California dog after all…but I never held that against you). Just because people don’t speak the same language doesn’t mean we shouldn’t exercise our voice and express ourselves.
What a weird damn dog.
You ate fruit and melons and things no dog likes. You had occasional rigid seizures, and breath beyond belief. You went two years without seeing Caitlyn and didn’t skip a beat, but were a puppy again the moment she came back (even at 12 years old). You stayed by my side, loving me and my family the same, even through all my selfishness, business, stress, and change.
You taught me not to assume, not to generalize, and that everybody likes sweet things. You helped me accept that with age come problems, and no one is perfect, but with love it’s only a passing inconvenience. You reminded me that distance and time cannot challenge love and family. You demonstrated that love is absolute, and eternal, and while we can’t always have things the way we want we shouldn’t ever want to be anywhere but where we belong. That's why I stayed with you, and held you, right through the end.
You were the finest damn dog
I ever shared my life with.
Thank you for sharing yours with me.
I will always LOVE YOU, and MISS YOU.
RIP Mickey Guttormsen
~1999 – Feb 28, 2012