Gida P. Hunt (Smalldog, Small, Tiny, Gida Magoo, The Animal, Chicken, the high-contrast object…) went to the Rainbow Bridge on August 12, 2013. She was almost 12.
She was born on Sept. 29, 2001 at her breeder’s home in Cottonwood, CA. Jeff, quaintly, found her litter advertised in the personals. Contrary to what he was told, Cottonwood is not “just north of Sacramento.”
Gida loved cheese, especially cheese we dropped on the ground. One time, she ripped open a grocery bag, ate some of the cheese, then started on the crackers. And the fig spread. Another time, she ate a jumbo, unattended Reese’s peanut butter cup and was pretty good and jacked up for the evening. She fell off a backyard deck once, then, mere months later, tumbled down our stairs and into the sidewalk. She was minorly dinged both times. If Gida thought it was OK for people to say this (and she surely did not), she would’ve claimed YOLO (you only live once) for such reckless behavior.
She didn’t always live dangerously, though. She loved Dolores Park, any b-a-l-l, hanging from her rope b-o-n-e with her jaws of life, leaving the room if people watched TV or a movie, coming back into the room and begging if people were eating (even salad, even after she tried and hated the sample Tara gave her once), space heaters, obsessively staring under furniture looking for lost toys (which were sometimes not even there), and travel (mostly within California, but she also visited Nevada, Arizona, Utah, and Texas).
Gida, who only knew a post-9/11 world, had a ridiculously easy time going through security the one time she flew.
After years of being a kept dog, she was put to work at Jeff and Tara’s 2010 wedding, assuming the role of flower girl. She subsequently returned to being a kept dog.
For more than a year, she had a variety of health problems, culminating in a likely brain tumor. She responded well to her medication for nearly two months; she was better than she had been in a while, but we knew she was on borrowed, however comfortable and stoned time. After a particularly difficult day, we knew the meds stopped working and that it was time.
Infinite thanks to the nice doctors (she had more of them than we did) who helped her through all of her health problems. And ultimate thanks to Gida for being the best canine best friend we could’ve asked for, from the beginning (which was in 2007 for Tara), all the way to the end.
She is survived by her human parents, Jeff, Tara, and Suzanne; her canine brother (littermate), Pixel; and many adoring friends near and far.
To honor her memory, live dangerously once in awhile (it’s good for you), and eat lots of cheese.