January 11, 2026

Five days after we thought Guapo had slipped away with an Irish Goodbye to die alone in the woods somewhere as some dogs do, we awoke to find him sleeping on the porch, waiting to be let in as if he’d just returned from a brief walk to do his business. He didn’t seem to understand why we were making such a fuss over his return, but he didn’t mind the extra goodies in his food that morning and the giant hugs he was getting.

He just went back to his normal routine of following me around everywhere I went, taking lots of naps and graciously enduring the indignity of wearing his ‘man-bands,’ or ‘karate belts,’ the name my husband gave the diapers he had to wear all the time because the tumor we thought had killed him kept him from being able to control his bladder. We may have been scratching our heads and thinking we’d experienced a miracle, but for Guapo, it was just another morning.

For the next three months, Guapo continued his daily routine, but knowing that he’d slipped away once, Dan and I were keeping an eye on him just to make sure it didn’t happen again. After all, who could tell if he’d wandered off intentionally or in a state of some kind of doggie dementia? Doctor Suzanne, our hilarious veterinarian, suggested that he was probably off looking for love. After all, he’d never been neutered, which was the reason she said he now had a mass in either his bowel or bladder that would eventually do him in. Until then, she explained, shaking her head and rolling her eyes, he was still every bit a man.

Ten days before Christmas, we were dealt a blow to our hearts when Jetta, our sweet Rottweiler rescue, crossed over the Rainbow Bridge quietly and quickly while lying in my arms. She’d had a stroke the previous year and had made a nearly miraculous recovery with a lot of help and TLC, but we had suspected some long-term effects and were not completely surprised by her passing. Still, we were grateful to have been able to be with her and that death had been swift and without pain for her.

Within days of laying sweet Jetta to rest, Guapo began to start sleeping later in the morning and being a little less enthusiastic about dinner time. I started making special meals for him to ensure that he would get enough protein and to help give him a little more reason to want to eat meals. That helped for nearly a week, but Dan and I could tell it was only a matter of time. Guapo was getting ready to leave us again, but this time, he probably wouldn’t be making a miraculous surprise return.

One thing that seemed to make him hesitant to shake loose from his comfortable life here on earth was something that surprised us both. A month before Jetta passed, Dan and I had taken in a pit-boxer mix puppy named Ziggy as a foster for a young woman who was struggling with substance abuse and had ended up in a rehab, but not before acquiring the poor puppy. Ziggy was skittish, malnourished, and so afraid of being yelled at or hit that she’d cower at any loud noise. Our other dogs were disgusted by her mere presence, and though she tried, she couldn’t do anything to change their minds, but Guapo welcomed her with the kind of gentle patience you might expect from a crusty, old grandpa type.

Ziggy would crawl all over the napping Guapo, chew on his ears, gnaw on his tail, and lick him to try to get him to play. He would tolerate more than any animal ever, not complaining at all, even when his ears were covered with slobber and his sleep had been irreparably challenged by her playfulness. And when she got tired, as eventually even puppies do, she’d curl up next to his body as close as she could get, making sure that she was on the inside curl, where she’d be able to soak up the warmth and the feel of his heartbeat, and they would both drift of peacefully to sleep. In those moments, despite having been mauled and tormented, Guapo looked like the most contented dog on the planet, as if he had finally achieved his true purpose in life.

Two days before Christmas, I was scheduled for surgery, and when I woke up that morning, I knew in my heart that Guapo had also chosen that day to make his exit, too. He had no interest in food, water, or even getting up, so Dan and I carried him to the living room, where he could be where he wanted to be – with us. We stayed with him for several hours, as long as we could until I had to leave for the hospital, then said what we were sure would be our final goodbyes and left him with my mom and Kayla, her senior aide, who is a kind and sensitive young woman, looking after him. She had come to love him, too.

Just before they took me back to pre-op, in the moment before they turned my phone and personal belongings over to Dan, we got word that Guapo had passed peacefully, with Ziggy sleeping nearby. I’m not sure if he was waiting for us to be away before he left to save us the pain of being there when he passed or if he simply wanted to be alone when he crossed over. I guess it doesn’t matter, does it? My last thought before the anesthesiologist ‘knocked me out’ was that if I didn’t wake up, I’d have such a welcoming crew on the other side, I certainly couldn’t be afraid.

Now that we’ve buried both our beloved big dogs and a little bit of time has passed, I can’t help but wonder if Guapo’s return after his five-day disappearance and his ‘Irish Goodbye’ wasn’t his way of coming back to give himself a second chance – kind of a do-over because he realized that wasn’t the way he wanted to leave us, even if just walking away might have been the easiest way for him after 475 days. I wonder if he somehow wanted to leave us with something more; some kind of legacy of his time here and all the love we shared. Maybe that’s what Ziggy will end up being because even though she came as a foster, she may well end up being here with us until she chooses to make her final goodbye, too, just like Jetta, Guapo, and all the lights of love that have passed through our lives before them. And if we’re lucky, before she goes, she’ll have learned a lesson from Guapo, her crusty old mentor, and she’ll pay that love she received forward and teach some other young pup how to love and be tolerant and then share the warmth of her body and her heartbeat when it’s time to rest and say a final goodbye.