"A Dog's Funny Exit Line" by Daniel Guss
This story is a great reminder that there is often more going on in life than most of us realize. But if I weren't there, I wouldn't believe it. Thankfully, others were, too.
Stick with me on this story, because by the end, you’re either going to laugh, gasp in astonishment or ideally both. It isn’t a sad story by any means, though you’ll understand in a moment why I am introducing it this way.
It’s a story of three dogs, Spencer, Judi and Morsel. All have passed, and that’s okay. We will all join them in due time.
I have spent much of my life trying to create miracles for animals in need of one the most. To wit, when I was just 5 years old, my dad snapped a photo of me curled up (like a dog) at the foot of my bed, with one of our dogs sleeping with his head on the pillow.
Decades later, Spencer, a pit/pointer mix, came to me from the barrio, where he lived a miserable early existence outdoors. Nicknamed Mr. Inconvenient, he was enormous, gaseous, shedding… and immensely charming. Not everyone’s cup of tea, but he thrived once he was treated kindly and appropriately.
Judi, a chocolate Chihuahua mix, later joined us after she had been abandoned with her pups in a shopping cart in the searing summer heat. She was a continuously sweet and cheerful soul about whom I wrote this legal saga that I will soon update.
And then came Morsel, perhaps a Japanese Chin, a manipulative seven-pound alpha whose psychological “id” was as big as the laundry list of things she needed repaired on her body, including an amputation, MCL surgery, leaky heart valve, hypertension, hernia removal (twice) and spay. She was partially blind in her wonky eye, had a broken tail, a collapsing trachea and was deaf, which is why I used hand and foot signals with her.
Morsel’s new life. The Boss Girl. Volume up. ⬇️
It’s good to know supremely talented, benevolent veterinarians…
Spencer, who once tipped the scales at around 90lbs, adored 15lb Judi, and was soothed by her after my first dog, Shayna, had passed a few years earlier. Shayna’s role in this story will be clearer in a moment.
On the other hand, Spencer wasn’t quite terrified of Morsel, but she was a tyrant toward him.
For size perspective, here they are together:
In my family, whenever possible, we have a vet let our pets pass peacefully at home when their time comes, as we had previously done with Shayna a few years prior to this story.
This doctor, educated at the #1 veterinary school in the United States, the University of California, Davis, has a very peaceful aura. She did a gentle exam on Shayna before providing a mild sedative to ease discomfort before a meditative moment with her.
She says that in her meditation with the pet, she silently communicates with them, asking things like do you know who I am? Do you know why I am here? Do I have your permission to do this? And is there anything you want me to share with your family once you pass?
It is peaceful, loving and unforgettable.
The story gets rather remarkable from here.
After a vigorously fun, long life, it was time to let Spencer go.
Both of his rear legs were part of a clinical trial for ACL replacement surgery that might one day be used on humans.
He regularly swam like a dolphin in a pool owned by Secret Service agents.
And he even beat cancer thanks to my phenomenal vets who — dig this — were aided by the multi-PhD veterinarian who literally developed the chemotherapy for Pfizer.
Pretty good for a barrio pit.
But eventually, he lost his trademark vigor and stopped eating, no matter what tasty sustenance he was offered. He clearly wanted to go, and his passport for that should have been stamped months earlier.
And so the same vet arrived.
The same vet who came to help Shayna pass a few years earlier, who Spencer had neither met before nor since that day.
As the vet calmly came into the living room, Spencer saw her and immediately got up from his warm, oversized dog bed. He walked to his feeding station and ate the entire bowl of food he had ignored for days, even when other tasty items were offered. He drank all of the water in his bowl. Then he uncharacteristically walked through the doggie door to relieve himself on the patio. When he was done, he came back in and laid back down on his dog bed.
In Spencer’s frat guy way, he handled it better than we did. Judi and Morsel, who he loved and loathed, respectively, watched from the couch having not been present for Shayna’s exit, though they barked, sensing something was up, before hushing-down.
As she had done with Shayna, the vet did a gentle exam and provided a mild sedative to ease Spencer’s discomfort before a silent meditative moment with him.
Do you know who I am? Do you know why I am here? Do I have your permission to do this? And is there anything you want me to share with your family once you pass?
She administered the rest of the process and the big guy peacefully passed with all of our hands on him.
As the vet had done after Shayna passed, she told us what she says Spencer had conveyed to her. In both cases, she relayed non-vague things that she could not have known or guessed with 100% accuracy, as she did.
But this time, she added, of her meditation with Spencer, “well, there was something else he said, but we don’t need to go there.”
Obviously, we had to go there.
The vet said…
That Spencer said of Morsel, who he feared…
“You know, sometimes THAT ONE looks delicious…” as she nodded her head in Morsel’s direction specifically.
We collectively gasped and burst out laughing!
The vet, who had only met Spencer once before, had never met Morsel or Judi. She could not have known whether such animosity had existed between them, let alone between which ones.
Yet, she told us exactly what Spencer undoubtedly felt about Morsel.
And it is entirely consistent with Spencer’s actions when the vet had arrived: standing up, devouring all of his food and water before a final bathroom break on the patio because he knew why she was there.
If you read this column on a regular basis, you know it comes with a baseline of skepticism about the media, government and politicians in particular. But skepticism has no such place on life’s tougher days.
If this had been a fortune teller or tarot card reader, I wouldn’t have believed it. If a friend had told this story, I’d wonder. But a doctor from the top veterinary school in all the land, I believe. She just shared the truth, though only hesitantly and at our insistence. She could not have guessed it with such precision.
I was there and, luckily, so was the family.
For us, it was a reminder that much may be happening before our very eyes that is invisible to most people. Perhaps it is more accessible to the most innocent, like very young children and animals, and adults who are sensitive and attuned to it.
I have no other way to see it, nor do I care to, but am grateful that I did this time.
I’ll see you in 2025 and, eventually, on the other side.
(Daniel Guss, MBA, won the LA Press Club’s “Online Journalist of the Year” and “Best Activism Journalism” awards in June ‘23. In June ‘24, he won its “Best Commentary, Non-Political” award. He has contributed to CityWatchLA, KFI AM-640, iHeartMedia, 790-KABC, Cumulus Media, KCRW 89.9 FM, KRLA 870 AM, Huffington Post, Los Angeles Daily News, Los Angeles Magazine, Movieline Magazine, Emmy Magazine, Los Angeles Business Journal, Pasadena Star-News, Los Angeles Downtown News and the Los Angeles Times in its sports, opinion, entertainment and Sunday Magazine sections among other publishers.)