Watt - Gizelles bucket list: my life with a very large dog

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Copyright 2017 by Lauren Watt

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Simon & Schuster Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

First Simon & Schuster hardcover edition March 2017

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The names and characteristics of some individuals in this book have been changed.

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Jacket design by Jonathan Bush

Jacket photograph of dog by John Arthur photography;

Hair by Anetlanda/Bigstock; Shoreline by Ericbvd/Bigstock;

Elbow B-D-S/Bigstock; Lighthouse by Gkgraphics/Bigstock

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Watt, Lauren Fern, author.

Title: Gizelles bucket list : my life with a very large dog / Lauren Fern Watt.

Description: New York: Simon & Schuster, 2017.

Identifiers: LCCN 2016033521|ISBN 9781501123658 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781501123665 (pbk.)

Subjects: LCSH: MastiffNew York (State)New York. | Watt, Lauren Fern. | Human-animal relationships.

Classification: LCC SF429.M36 W38 2017 | DDC 636.70092/9dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016033521

ISBN 978-1-5011-2365-8

ISBN 978-1-5011-2367-2 (ebook)

To my dad for teaching me to hang in there

W hile writing this book, I referenced personal journals, spoke with family and friends who appear in the story, and reflected on my memories of growing up with my very large dog, Gizelle. The book spans around seven years of my life, so by necessity events essential to this narrative were chosen, and other events were left out. Some names and identifying characteristics of individuals in this book have been changed.

T he alarm rang from my phone and I reached over to hit snooze. I snuggled my head back into the pillow and it beeped again. With one eye barely open, I thumbed at the screen. Shit! Shit! Shit! I jumped out of bed, grabbed a running shirt from the mountain of clothes, threw on my Asics, and bolted out the door.

I ran to the Astor Place subway, took the train up to Central Park, and sprinted to the registration tent. Out of breath upon arrival, I was met by a woman with long red fingernails and a raised eyebrow. Hon, you are twenty minutes late.

But this is one of my qualifying runs for the New York City Marathon. I pleaded. I only have to complete this race. Please, please just let me run. She placed her hands over the plastic bin of bibs and pinched her lips together. That race is gone.

Backing out of the tent, tears filled my eyes. Dont cry. Dont cry. Dont cry. Not here, Lauren. Not in Central Park. But there was no stopping it. Once I blinked, the tears came flooding.

Head down, I wandered across the park to Bethesda Fountain, the spot where Gizelle and I liked to watch the rowboats in the pond. Shed been having trouble with her back left leg. The stairs of my walk-up apartment building were too much, so two friends with a one-story house in Maine had offered to babysit for a few weeks. This made it possible for me to return to the city and carry on with work, but it was lonely in the city without Gizelle. Caitlin and John said she was doing well and staying off her paws. She was taking her medicine with ease. She would come back to New York as soon as she was well... at least thats what I hoped. But then again I wasnt so sure. Every time I thought about her limp, this horrible fear came over me.

I took a deep breath and wiped my face with my shirt. Okay, Lauren. Just because you missed one race doesnt mean you cant have a race of your own instead. You can still run your miles. I shook off the tears and started running. I ran up the stairs and through the elm trees, imagining Gizelles giant paws tapping at my side like they always did before shed developed that stupid limp. I continued around the duck pond, circled the Alice in Wonderland sculpture, then broke out of the park to Fifth Avenue.

I kept running. The heat from the concrete rose up to my legs. It would have been too hot for Gizelle to run today, but that didnt stop me from still picturing her by my side. When I closed my eyes, I could almost hear her paws tapping next to me. Faster and faster I ran down Fifth Avenue, dodging the crowds of busy Saturday traffic in Manhattan, feeling better with every stride.

I made my way over to Seventh Street, crossed Avenue A and considered running another mile or two to the East River Promenade, but instead stopped in front of my apartment. I exhaled and dropped my hands to my knees. Exhale. Exhale. Exhale. I took my phone out of my running armband. It was then I noticed the three missed calls. There was voicemail waiting. It was from Caitlin. She said to call right away. It was about Gizelle.

I climbed the stairs to my apartment out of breath. Maybe Caitlin is calling about her food or her prescriptions? The vet had called in some of her meds to be filled at the Rite Aid in Kittery. Maybe there was a problem picking it up. My face was flushed from the seven miles, my Asics were still on, and my heart pounded. I opened the door to my apartment and Gizelles empty dog bed and stared at my phone, trying to work up the courage to just call. Just call, Lauren. Its fine.

How quickly Gizelle had come into my life, a summer day in Tennessee six years before. Back when my parents were still together, before I moved to New York City, before I started running. How quickly Gizelle had become my new best friend, but so much more.

I dialed the number.

W e promised ourselves we were just going to look.

Mom and I were sitting in the parking lot of CVS on Franklin Road. It was 10 a.m. and humid already in Brentwood, the suburb of Nashville where I grew up. The windshield faced a line of trees and we were facedown in the The Tennessean classifieds, shopping in our favorite section. The puppy section.

We had no business browsing in the puppy section that day. Back home we already had two dogs, Yoda and Bertha, not to mention a slew of other critters and this other unsolvable family problem I doubted the new puppy would know how to fix.

Lab? I suggested, biting into my everything bagel.

Mom shook her head, mouth full, too. She gave me a thumb up in the air. Bigger!

Coonhound?

Ehh. She thought it over. Isnt a coonhound UTs mascot or something, sweetie? She was right. The droopy-eared, jowly coonhound was the mascot of the Vols, the football team at the University of Tennessee where Id be starting as a transfer sophomore in the fall. Would purchasing the mascot be a little too smells-like-team-spirit for the new girl on campus? Having the same thought, our eyes met and we both smiled.