Guilt, Grief, and Guylian

My dog’s name is pronounced gil-yan, like the seashell chocolates. He was from Tito Andy’s first dachshund litter. Thanks, Tito Ands, for giving me Guylian who may well be the greatest gift of my life. Also thankful to Yaya Leds, Mang Edgar, and my mom for being Guyli’s family and safe space as I explored the world.I may have cried all the tears saved up over the past years; tears I’ve held back whenever Guylian crossed my mind. My strong, stubborn but sweet, loyal canine passed away on October 16, 2023, with 15 wonderful years under his collar.My mom says he refused to eat and drink, preparing for his final journey. He vomited water. That’s what dogs do when they’re ready to die, says one of the books I read when I prepared for Guyli’s arrival back in 2008.It was a book on holistic practices for pets and taught me about natural remedies based on their evolution. No non-doggie milk for the pup; I mixed in yogurt instead. I cooked him balanced meals of 75% meat, 15% veggies, and 10% carbs. When I’d see a tick, I’d grate a bit of garlic in his food. I believe this healthy diet resulted in a soft, shiny, and garapata-free coat that caught a stranger’s attention in Tiendesitas. “How’d you get his coat to be so thick and shiny?”I’d like to believe it also led to his long, healthy life.Guylian was a handsome dog. Even when a belly started to form, people would stop him on the street, eager to buy one of his pups when he gives birth.😆 Umm.😬 "Lalaki po siya." ("He’s a dude.”)He was smart. Potty training wasn’t that difficult, though he did mark my bed a few times and often refused to pee outside when it was raining. He’d try to hide his pee under the couch or the corner table!He mastered "sit," "stay," "jump," "down," "turn around," "roll over," and even "bang!", which had him playing dead. "Lechon" was another trick in his repertoire. Can you guess what that looks like?My salchicha was also undeniably stubborn, particularly when he sprinted off to chase prey. He once buried himself in a mountain of wood branches in the farm and wouldn't come out, no matter how low and scary I made my voice. Must’ve been something scurrying around in there!His hunter's instinct was incredible. Guylian had a knack for catching mice and his imaginary trophy case held at least three big rats, a kitten, and even a bird. I’ll never forget prying a dying kitty from his mouth—twice! He just wouldn’t let go.Es mejor pedir perdón que pedir permiso. (It’s better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission.)Guylian lived that. He’d go for what he wanted, knowing full well it was against my wishes, then come back with his soulful eyes and his undying devotion to following me wherever I went. It was impossible to stay mad at him for long.It was also impossible to feel alone with such a clingy companion.Cuddling was one of his talents. At the very least, he'd rest his head on your foot. Most times, he’d steal a pillow and burrow himself close to you. His affection helped me weather countless difficult times and heartbreaks. His existence gave me a reason to carry on even when I didn’t want to. Dramatic, but true.For almost half of my life, he was one of the greatest sources of joy, love, and support. He was my home.Guylian was also the source of my guilt. The mere thought of leaving him behind tied my heart in knots, and had my eyes well up. So, in 2019, I had him tattooed on my ankle. That way, I could take him with me wherever I went.I’ve left him for months at a time but he never cast a look of disdain. The only time he ever gave me that look was when I introduced him to a swimming pool. He'd never swum before, and he despised the water. He loathed taking showers too, hiding and scrunching down closer to the floor every time he heard "Ligo ka na, Gi!" (“Time for a bath, Gi!”)Guyli was the only reason strong enough to have kept me in the Philippines.If not for how well he was cared for at home, I never would have been able to pack up and leave for good without him. He was the señorito of the house, and with my mom's expanding plant collection and Mang Edgar's green thumb, he had a beautiful garden to explore every day.Guylian didn't like being carried. His long body made it difficult for most people to lift him comfortably. But not me. We had that trust; I knew precisely where to place my arms, and he'd let his weight fall onto me as I swept him off the floor. It was a seamless dance between the two of us, a connection we still shared the last time I saw him in February.I held him like a baby, for he truly was my baby until the very end, even as he went blind and walked more slowly with his arthritis. We grew up together.I wept like a child when I left, knowing it would be the last time I'd feel his soft fur, pat his big belly, or carry him. It would be the last time I’d hold him, kiss him, tell him how much I loved him.I wonder if he, too, knew it was our last goodbye?Guylian's final night fell during my day. The entire Sunday, my back hurt a lot and I had zero energy. The only other symptom was a sore throat, I had no fever. Still, I could barely walk around the house. Weird.The next day, the feeling was gone. And so was my Giwi.My last bit of superstition wants to believe that our connection was working its magic across continents. In some way, I was feeling his pain as he came to say goodbye. Maybe he was lying down beside me on the couch all day.I hope he noticed his photo and all the dachshund-themed memorabilia around the house.I wonder if he thought of me in the end?I hope not. I wasn't there to see him off; I was fast asleep.But if he did, I hope he knew how much I loved him and cherished his unconditional love and trust. How proud I was of his hunting skills, how I think fondly of our road trips, how he saved me from dark moments. And how he will forever hold a piece of my life and my heart, wherever he is.I imagine him now in a vast field running carefree, diving into the bushes, tracking scents, and enthusiastically digging through the earth, elegantly tossing dirt and leaves behind him with his teeny little legs.I’ll think of him whenever I’m in nature.I’ll think of him when I treat myself to my favorite chocolate, which I named him after. I’ll think of him when I see another pup.I’ll think of him randomly, daily for as long as I live.Be wild, be free, and be at peace, Guylian. You were and always will be one of the greatest and purest loves of my life.Thanks for reading Where I Roam Free! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. 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