Gertie’s remarkable run is over

After 12 1/2 extraordinary, entertaining and thoroughly worthwhile years, Gertie (the Permapup) is done with her incredible run.

All dog lovers know what it’s like to lose what is realistically a family member, and my family experienced that last week. But while it’s no fun and isn’t easy, it’s just part of the deal.

When an animal is around for a dozen years or more, you kind of get used to the extras that go with the arrangement. Then when that animal is no longer there, things that were routine and comfortable just cease.

It’s a form of “cold turkey” that can’t be avoided, and it results in a strange, empty void.

Scotty (the Scottie) still hasn’t quite adjusted, because he never knew what life without Gertie was like for more than five years. Now and then, he looks at spots in the house where she might have normally have been found, and then looks back at me with a questioning expression.

I just tell him, “no, she’s not coming back.”

Any dog that feels loved and safe develops a strong and distinct personality, and Miss Gertie was an ultra-alert, vibrant Pembroke Welsh Corgi who got everything she could out of her time on Earth. She was fascinating, engaging and smart as heck, and the memories of living with this amazing example of God’s creation will be lasting.

Gertie was one of the greatest water dogs to ever live, and going to a river or lake was one of her favorite things to do (right up there with eating). Whenever we took a family outing to a body of water, as soon as we arrived she would head straight for the wet zone and go right in without any prompting, swimming back and forth with her white-tipped tail sticking up like a periscope.

Gertie absolutely loved float trips, and probably went on 30 or more in her lifetime. She was always keen to be right up on the front of whichever kayak she was in, and witnessing her balance was amazing as she stayed in place even when the going got a bit rough. She was so silly, and loved water so much, I’m pretty sure she “fell in” on purpose on several occasions, just so she could swim to shore and start the process again.

And I could swear she was giggling the whole time I was working to retrieve her.

Gertie loved snow, too. When I would look out on a winter morning and see a bunch of it on the ground, I would give her hints and then open the door for her to go outside.

As she stepped over the threshold, she would stop in her tracks and a look of total joy would be on her face, and she would almost seem to gasp in excitement. Then she would dash outside and run in circles, biting at the white stuff without losing any speed. No matter how often she saw snow, every time was like the first time.

Gertie loved to go on a walk, and would bark half-hysterically whenever my wife Wendy or I so much as uttered that word. Winter walks with snow on the ground were the best, and the way she would get into a rhythm when she sort of trotted ahead of us was always funny to watch.

Gertie loved to play tug-o-war, and when her jaws were clamped down on one end of a towel, it was “on,” and she wasn’t going to let go for anything or anyone. And the whole time she would growl and gurgle, because she was the master of sound effects.

Speaking of sound effects, whenever I would brush her, she would gargle, moan, yip, and make other weird noises. I always joked that she turned into a gremlin when the brush was on her. We always figured she might just be ticklish, but we were never really sure.

And oh man, her fur would fill a grocery bag from a good brushing. For the record, Corgis are well known to be big-time shedders, and Wendy was constantly dealing with the evidence on the floors inside the house.

Gertie loved treats, especially in the morning. Every day when I would come into the kitchen to turn on the coffee maker, she would show up and stare at me with that “I’m ready” look. And then I’d hand her a Buddy Biscuit and she would munch it up and things were good.

Gertie was almost a celebrity at the Piney River Brewing Company’s BARn, and enjoyed dozens and dozens of afternoons hanging out and doing hilarious things there. My family still loves to recall a time when she walked the entire length of the bar, skillfully passing through the narrow opening between people’s feet and the vertical wooden structure. So funny!

Of course, many of you might recall how Gertie and I worked together on several “Gone with Gertie” columns. Sure, the concept was tongue-in-cheek, with a sarcastic, history-loving, trivia expert of a Corgi vocalizing all kinds of silly stuff after we went on an outing somewhere in the Missouri Ozarks. But I’m convinced she had a sense of duty when we were “on assignment,” mainly because of her actions in front of the camera. You see, she usually didn’t like seeing a camera pointed in her direction, but she seemed more open to it on these occasions.

Gertie was the boss whenever she was around other dogs – and they knew it and submitted to her authority. We sometimes called her the “fun police,” because she would step in and break things up whenever she thought other dogs were stepping over the line of “too much fun.”

And the epic chases between Gertie and Scotty were a sight to behold. She wasn’t nearly as fast as her target, but she wasn’t slow, either, and could utilize angles so brilliantly that she would frequently surprise him by suddenly being right on his tail.  

I could go on and on, because this dog was special, as so many dogs are.

Anyway, as dog lovers can appreciate, I prefer to suppress the sadness I feel and lean toward the inner smile I get from remembering all the great moments my family had being residents of Gertie World.

But it’s strange waking up in the morning and not having to avoid her ample girth lying next to my side of the bed. It’s strange getting up in the morning and not giving Gertie a treat. And it’s strange not hearing her bark.

But I’m very thankful for her existence, and I’m grateful for the way God pairs willing humans with these remarkably loyal and loving four-legged sidekicks.

It was great knowing Gertie.

Doug Davison is a writer, photographer and newsroom assistant for the Houston Herald. Email: ddavison@houstonherald.com.