Honestly, I wasn't impressed with her when we met. She was loud, bossy, and possibly reactive. When we got her home, she had a tiff with Gretchen right away, so I didn't think she was going to fit in. For about the first week, I was prepared to take Kitty back to Indiana. She was nothing like the mellow Big Guy, but more like most members of her breed, it turned out. It would be a while before we bonded.
Miss Kitty was what we call loyal. She was playful and affectionate with us, but not so much with strangers. She used to jump in bed and cuddle with me, often lying partly on top of me. She would sometimes climb into my chair with me to become an 85-pound lap dog. She was always willing to give me a series of puppy kisses, and for her whole life she never had bad breath. Eventually, we bonded and she became a favorite.
On the other hand, she was hard to take out in public. Many of our friends never met her. She might bark and lunge at anyone she didn't know, especially a tall man with a hat or beard. She was majestic, imposing, and beautifully regal in appearance, but fearsome when aggressive. Her long, pointy ears made her look like Batman. Her beard, brows and teeth completed the ensemble, and her bulging muscles backed it up. She scared a lot of people in her lifetime, it's fair to say. But she never bit anyone, drew blood or made a bruise. The most she accomplished was to nibble on hands. One time a friend recommended that we try her out for a part in a local theater production, which needed a large, hairy dog in a play. I said, "You're not familiar with her work, are you?" She had no prey drive, and was not much interested in digging for moles, chasing chickens or similar pursuits. In the last few years of her life she mellowed considerably, tolerating strangers fairly well. We had guests over the morning of the day she died, and she was perfectly gentle with them.
She was fearless and absolutely dominant among dogs. She never lost a game of tug-of-war. She sometimes wouldn't tolerate other dogs play fighting, jumping in to break up their shenanigans. All dogs had to respect her space or face consequences. If she was sleeping and another dog touched her, she would growl, giving rise to the expression, "Don't bump the grump". She even did that to us in our own bed! She did play with dogs, however, when she was in the mood. In the photo album linked below, there are some videos of her chasing the sisters when she was young. She often would attempt to play with new foster dogs, soliciting them by stomping her feet. There's a video of her doing this with Farley, a young Giant Schnauzer. Frequently, she was just too intimidating for them to engage her. She did love playing with balls and other toys, but she could reduce most toys to shreds, bits and pieces in almost no time. For a while we had red ball that lit up and talked in an electronic voice. She would carry that thing around and look like a demon. She like to grab a random toy and take it outside every time she went out the door. She was not so good at bringing them back in, resulting in a net accumulation of toys outdoors. I always had to do a thorough survey of the grounds before mowing the lawn.
She played a game that the other dogs hated. She would bull her way to the front when it was time to go outside. She'd be the first out the door, turn around and challenge every dog as it came out. I called it, "Kitty bar the door." Some dogs, like Indigo, refused to go out, and I would have to step onto the porch and play defense for them to exit. I should mention that I never saw her make contact with one of the other dogs with her nipping. Like most of her games, it was a bluff. Only in her later years would she tolerate any guff from the other dogs. Luna might nip at her beard, and Kitty would just turn her head aside. Most of the time. Again, I never saw her injure another dog.
It is a testament to her genetics, breeding and perhaps stubbornness that she lived so long. Thirteen and a half years is a stretch for a breed that averages 10-12. Big Guy died at 7. I began collecting photos of her for the album below about 5 years ago when we were nearly certain she was dying of lymphoma. Miraculously, she recovered. She survived several other brushes with death, including toe cancer, squamous cell carcinoma, and a mammary cyst. We used to say she was the only dog we knew missing a toe and a tit. When recovering from the mammary surgery, she tore the stitches out, leaving a sizeable open hole at the incision, and bleeding all over the kitchen floor. We put a green, plastic cone of shame on her to prevent her getting at it again. She used this cone as a battering ram everywhere she went. You did not want to get hit by it as she ran. By the time she was healed, it was destroyed.
One day I saw her run across the front porch and pull up lame. She had torn an ACL. She was already too old to be a logical candidate for the surgery, so we had her fitted for a custom brace. She wore it for a few months and recovered on her own. Arthritis contributed to failing hindlimbs. I even bought her a butt sling to help get her into vehicles. She hated it. She tore the other ACL. Like another miracle, she healed on her own. She never lost the ability to walk, get up off the floor, or even climb stairs. Though her once-massive thigh muscles had atrophied terribly, she remained functional. She got smarter. When the other dogs were running and playing outside, she would wait for them to run past her and snap at them. She still had to show them who was boss.
Miss Kitty was a mischievous rascal and, like most giants, an expert counter surfer. I don't recall all of the things she stole and ate, but one that stands out was the time, in her later years with failing hips, she used a foot stool to reach the kitchen counter to consume some Chex mix set out to dry.
I never attempted to earn any titles with her, but we did some dog sports. While training the other dogs for agility, I got her to jump the bar. A couple of times I took her out in the snow with me on cross-country skis. As a show dog, she was trained not to pull, so I had to do most of the work myself, but we both had fun. I also had her pull me on the skateboard once, and she did surprisingly well. Miss Kitty was retired from the show ring, but she had one job to do for us: guard dog. She was so reliable and trustworthy that we let her have the run of the house (except kitchen) while we were gone. We knew she wouldn't chew anything up or mess anywhere. All the other dogs were crated (except Gretchen, whose vigilance was part of the guarding effort). We figured with Kitty present, only an idiot would try to enter our house. One of the UPS drivers used to throw the packages up on the porch and run back to the truck. She was 100% successful in this work. Our house was never broken into.
Her favorite foods included chicken (especially raw), and butter. One time she got ahold of a can of cheese whiz, which we use to give pills to reluctant dogs. By the time she was done, that can looked like it had been shot with a full clip of .22-caliber bullets. Interestingly, her teeth remained remarkably clean, and she never lost any, though several were quite worn by the end.
Among her habits were lying down with her paws crossed--a very regal pose. Often she would get a drink of water then walk over and put her dripping beard in my lap. In our previous home, she refused to go down the stairs to the basement. We would always have to run her around the outside to the back door, even in subzero temperatures. She was so dominant that she would sometimes lift her leg while peeing. She loved to travel, and would jump into the back of my car at any opportunity. She loved camping too. She always crossed her front paws when lying down, creating an elegant look.
We gave her various drugs, including CBD, with her food to help her deal with the pain in her hips. These would typically leave her in a food coma, and she would sleep hard after a meal. She fooled us many times: she'd be so still we would think she was dead and have to look hard to see her breathing. We were watching the last stage of the Tour de France on YouTube on a Sunday night. The race was over, and trophies were being given. Kitty was sleeping on the floor between Stacey on the couch and me in my recliner. Stacey got up to let all the dogs out for the last time of the day. Kitty didn't get up. That's not unusual. I went over to check on her and her legs were already stiff. She had died peacefully in her sleep. We have been saying for years now that every day with Kitty was a blessing. Giants just don't live that long. She could go at any time. But we still weren't ready for her to leave us. As with everything in her life, she did it her way. She didn't do it when we were on vacation a month ago. She didn't do it while I was riding RAGBRAI. I had been back less than 24 hours. She had enjoyed her last meal. She was with her people and her pack. She chose her time. This was her final gift to us. We interred her body in our private pet sematary in the middle of a small grove of Paw Paw trees out back. I had to dig a really big hole. She has her own marked stone.
There are a large number of images and a few short videos in the photo album linked below. Click on the little circled letter "i" to see a caption for each pic. I hope that it conveys what a sweet, funny and impressive dog she was. Ch Fanta C's Gunsmoke's Leading Lady (7 December 2008 - 31 July 2022), we are ever grateful that you were part of our lives.
https://photos.app.goo.gl/GCEMAvVs71GP2H7t9
