Obituaries

Here’s the thing about Goose. He wasn’t supposed to be mine. When i went to pick him up, there were two babies left. 21 year old me hated making decisions and I couldn’t choose. So we flipped a coin. And it landed for the *other* puppy. I was immediately sad but said “okay let’s go.” Everyone around me clearly knew I had a favorite I didn’t want to say, because they were both so cute. But they knew we had to leave with the puppy that went against the coin toss.

I often wonder about the “other” dog. Was he healthy at six months while Goose had 12 inches of his intestines removed? What was he doing at a year old when Goose had ulcers? What about all the late nights when Goose got into something and we rushed to the emergency vet? Or when he was seven and he tore his ACL and had melanoma in the same summer before we moved across the country? How about when they were eight and Goose had his spleen removed? Or the summer they turned ten and they had to remove his right eye? What about at eleven when Goose tore his other ACL and had to have surgery and started going blind completely?

But then I wonder if he was as cuddly as Goose. Or if he tried to crawl into his human’s skin like Goose did. Was he afraid of fireworks or loud trucks or thunderstorms? Did he ever throw their car in neutral while driving because he heard a semi? Did he put his nose to the door waiting for them to return? Did he push them off their pillow in the middle of the night so he could use it? Did he try to run onto an on ramp in the middle of a New Mexico interstate, only to be taken down by a grate in the middle of the road? Did he escape his crate during a thunderstorm, get stuck in the bathroom, and stay quiet while the humans yelled for him and panicked that he ran away? Did he make them question that torn ACL because of how he ran and jumped and played? Did his vet techs cheer every time he came in and make up nicknames for him?

It’s a running joke in my family that Goose wasn’t the brightest. And it’s true. He would fall for the fake throw every time, even when he had both eyes. He never learned how to properly play fetch, but he would always fish the ball out of the water bowl when Smokey refused. The only time people could get mad at him was when he annoyed them by not understanding personal space, and requiring physical touch at all times. He lived up to his name because he really was the silliest goose around.

So while, yes, we often say he was my million dollar dog, and at first I wondered what it would have been like if I had listened to the coin flip, I know the universe gave me Goose for a reason. He was there for my happiest years, my hardest years, my heartbreak and learning to love again, my road trips and my late nights. He was there when I graduated (twice), and every time I moved. He was a lot to handle, but that meant he had a lot of love to give. I will forever be thankful that I picked him.