Gibbs - the best dog a person could ask for

Gibbs is a good dog. He chases cars, barks at neighbors, and ignores directions, but Gibbs is a good dog. My family got Gibbs nine years ago when he was just a puppy and from the moment we saw him, we knew he was the one. Out of a litter of fluffy, hyper golden retrievers Gibbs was slightly different. While the other puppies jumped and crawled all over us, Gibbs laid back and let us come to him. He would rather bask in the sun and enjoy the cool grass than meet new people eager to play. The owners said he was the mellow one. The only issue was that somebody already bought him. Luckily for us, one week later the owners called and told us that the buyer never showed up and they were willing to sell Gibbs to us. We ended up buying both Gibbs and his sister Gracie.

As they grew up, while very close, Gibbs and Gracie were very different. She was sweet and playful, always wanting to run around and exercise. Gibbs on the other hand spent his time eating and sprawling on the pavement soaking in the sun. Gracie would listen to directions and always come when called while Gibbs would glance up uninterested then lie back down as if nothing was ever said. He was the kind of dog that you would have to bribe to do anything.

While always trying to act brave, Gibbs’ true colors always showed. Our old neighbors used to have what seemed like hundreds of cats and often they would find their way into our yard. Gibbs would naturally try and stand his ground against the cats but they would always win. Minutes after a cat entered our yard, a whimpering Gibbs would retreat back into the house.

So while Gibbs didn’t click with some animals, he had an uncommon connection to others, especially deer. Once, when taking Gibbs on a walk, a mother deer crept into the middle of the road. Instead of running like if it was a cat, Gibbs galloped up to the deer and laid down on his back. Unafraid, the deer accepted Gibbs as one of its own and the two pranced around together as friends. He’s this way with people too. Anyone who has ever met Gibbs has had an immediate connection. The big lipped, lovable dog who wants nothing more than a scratch on his belly.

Gibbs has many nicknames — “Mr. Gibbs.” “Gibby,” “Bubba,” and the one my mom is least proud of, “The Flying Dog.” The first three nicknames are used by friends and family but the last is primarily used by the veterinarian. About four years ago, my family was having a movie night. We ordered pizza and settled down for an evening of family bonding. My sister, never being a crust girl, tossed her pizza crust down to Gibbs. The response was not what was expected. Instead of the normal excitement that comes when a dog is given normal food, Gibbs rejected this offering. Something wasn’t right; he had never refused a pizza crust. Gibbs was unresponsive and couldn’t even stand up. We rushed him to the vet, desperate to know what was wrong. After hours of tests, the doctors came back with some questions for my mom. “Have you done any baking recently?” “How old are your kids?” “Does your husband have any pains that he needs to treat?” My mom was understandably confused by the random questions.

It turns out Gibbs wasn’t sick. He was high. He got his nickname when he attempted to jump off a stretcher down the stairs and “fly.” He had to be fed nutrients through tubes and was hooked up to machines for 24 hours. My family was confused. No one in my family has any association with marijuana, so we had no clue it how it happened. We later found our answer when we discovered a trail of butter leading from our neighbors basement. These same neighbors then moved out a month later under the cover of night. If we thought Gibbs was mellow before, boy were we wrong. He is now what can only be explained as “perma-fried.”

A few years later, bumps started appearing all over his body. The veterinarian said it was melanoma; he had two months to live. One month went by, then two months, then six months, then a year. Now, two years later, Gibbs is better than ever. Somehow defying all the odds, he still trucks along. He basks in the sun and eats pizza crust as if it was his job. He still chases down cars, freaks out at every dog he sees, refuses to follow directions, and he is still the best dog a person could ask for.

Thomas Carloss is a senior at Whitefish High School.