One Dog, Two Hearts

The Origin Story of Gidget McFidget

If you follow me on Notes in the Substack app, you probably already know that Gidget McFidget - my soul dog, heart dog, other half of my heart - is gone. We had nearly fourteen glorious years together. She came from the shelter in 2012 already three or four years of age. Best guess places her at or around eighteen years old.

Below is an essay I wrote which was published in 2025 in the Publish Her Anthology: Dog Years, a collection of essays celebrating the bond between women and their dogs.

Cover picture of the Dog Years Anthology

Gather ‘round and hear the story of a feisty little dog named Gidget McFidget and how she won both of my hearts.

Gidget always looked like she was actively listening to every word I said.

The Origin Story, circa 2012

One Dog, Two Hearts

By Dawn Levitt

“We need a rescue to step up for this little dog by the end of day tomorrow or she will be placed on the euthanasia list.”

The voicemail from animal control sounded dire. Her reactive behavior toward other dogs and attempts to bite shelter workers rendered her unadoptable to the public. A rescue willing to commit to her rehabilitation was her only hope for survival.

On a sweltering day in mid-August, the director of our rescue and I arrived at the shelter to evaluate the little dog. The kennel attendant led us to a narrow room where small-breed dogs barked from metal cages stacked two high lining the walls on both sides.

The attendant stood to the side as she opened the door of an upper-level cage to reveal a black and tan dog the size of a loaf of bread. Reaching forward carefully, the director offered her hand for a sniff, and the little dog lunged toward her. She jumped back, stepping on my feet, but the dog sprang free of the cage and landed in her arms where she licked her face with rapid-fire flicks of her tongue.

The director took her home, and the dog behaved perfectly outside of the shelter. She was named “Gidget,” and quickly adopted, however, Gidget’s adoptive family soon wanted to return her due to her wild behavior. She couldn’t go back to the director’s house because she terrorized the cats, so she came to live with me.

Gidget made herself at home the minute she walked through the door of our house. She lifted her leg just inside the doorway as if she were signing her name to the deed. This was new to me. I never met a female who hiked her leg to mark her territory. According to online sources, this demonstrated the hallmark of a dominant female.

The first night at our house, Gidget screamed for an hour when we tried to get her to sleep in a dog kennel, until I finally relented and brought her to bed. Every bedtime thereafter, she insisted on snuggling against my side where she slept peacefully through the night.

Despite Gidget’s model behavior at home, she turned into an entirely different creature when I took her to adoption events. She immediately went on the offense – snapping, snarling, and screaming at anything on four legs. The shelter accurately labeled her as “dog reactive.”

This forced the rescue to consider that she might truly be unadoptable. If she could not be safely adopted, she would be returned to the shelter where she would be euthanized. My heart sank at the prospect.

“Let me adopt her,” I insisted. “She is the perfect dog at our house.”

In this way, Gidget got exactly what she wanted. She knew she had found her forever home the day she marked the doorway, but it took a few weeks before I wised up to the fact.

Six years later, Gidget became the one to rescue me. I had received a heart transplant several years prior to adopting her, but my health had declined rapidly in the past year. Cardiologists informed me that I would need another heart transplant, but the hospital where I received my first gift of life was unable to give me another. Second heart transplants were uncommon.

After a nationwide search, I found a hospital in Nashville, Tennessee willing to list me for transplant. However, they required me to move to Nashville before I could be placed on the waiting list.

Although I found an available apartment near the hospital, I would be forced to live alone, possibly for months, before a match was found. My husband couldn’t leave his job to be with me while I waited. He needed to save any time off to be my caregiver during recovery. And what would I do with Gidget? Her reactivity made it impossible to re-home her temporarily. All of my friends had dogs of their own.

As I researched the location online, I discovered that it was a pet-friendly apartment complex. Suddenly, everything came together. If I relocated to Nashville, I wouldn’t be alone. Gidget McFidget would be my constant companion as I waited for a heart transplant.

My husband and my father assisted with the move, driving my possessions and my car across state lines and moving everything into my new home, then they left. I was alone in a strange city, but I had my car and my dog.

We tackled the experience as an adventure. Gidget and I explored the area and the nearby college campus. I found all the fun little restaurants and shops, and she lifted her leg on every lamppost and street sign. As my health worsened, our journeys grew shorter and further apart. Eventually, I didn’t want to leave the apartment or get out of bed.

Gidget refused to allow me to wallow in self-pity. Every day, she demanded I put on my shoes and walk her. She refused to use puppy pads and scratched at the door until I took her outside. Likewise, when she demanded her dinner, she ignored her kibble and pawed my leg as if she wanted me to eat something she could mooch. Her motivation to ensure I kept moving and eating on a daily basis worked better than any human nurse. Instead of doing it for my own sake, I did it for her because I couldn’t let her be neglected. She kept me going until the call came with the offer of a brand-new heart.

These days, Gidget is sixteen years old and needs to be carried to bed, but she still snuggles against my side every night, sighing with contentment as we both drift off to sleep. She is the dog who stole both of my hearts.

Addendum: Gidget McFidget left this world on May 19, 2026. I held her in my arms as she breathed her last stinky little breath. She took a little bit of my heart with her that day, but it was a fair trade. I wouldn’t have this heart at all if it wasn’t for her.