Goethe P. Lueders (6.14.03 – 5.13.08), the younger of two black Labrador retrievers owned by Jill and Karl Lueders (Sadie the elder); named after the German poet/philosopher Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, moreso after the most mispronounced street on Chicago’s near north side. Natives of The Windy City, the Lueders desired a name that not only would remind them of home, but would also stand out. The Lueders hit both marks; to this day, Goethe may be the most mispronounced dog name of all time (after several suggestions, the Lueders settled on the Gu-tuh pronunciation for formal introductions; Gerta was the more common usage.)
Like most sporting Labs, Goethe came out of her litter with fire in her eyes, mischief in her heart and a craving for birds and squirrels. Born to two pedigreed hunters in Brush, Colo., in 2003, Goethe arrived in Denver to join the Lueders family and 5 year-old Sadie. Unlike most sporting labs, Sadie preferred the more luxurious trappings of down comforters and leather sofas to 20-degree sunrise hunts and was ill-prepared for a 5-lb., hell-raising farm dog that was about to become her sister.
Goethe P. Lueders
While Sadie was beloved by all who met her, Goethe’s rise to acceptance was an acquired taste (unlike the immediate craving Goethe developed for the wooden legs on Lueders furniture). Sadie was quiet, smooth and eager to please; Goethe was loud, determined, impatient and stronger than most dogs twice her size. Yet, as she displayed her acute devotion to the people who showed her love and remarkable skills in field, Goethe’s rock star status began to elevate. Everywhere she went – friends’ homes, dog care facilities (Goethe had a knack for visiting the vet – four surgeries in five years, not including her neutering), wine shops and dog parks – she left smiles and legendary tales in her wake. (For those of you familiar with Dog Swim in Englewood, be sure to ask the owners about the lab who broke through the cover on the endless pool.)
The story of Goethe is brief, because, like most rock stars, she was destined to burn out rather than fade away. At eight months, Goethe was attacked by a Brittany Spaniel, who, by all accounts, had had quite enough of Goethe’s toothy invitations to play. Had she not made it to surgery within the next two hours, she likely wouldn’t have made it the next four years. At the age of three, due in part to a desire to chase balls, Frisbees and cats at 90 mph, Goethe developed acute arthritis in her front elbow, which required arthroscopic clean-out. Seemingly accident-prone, it wasn’t until Karl discovered lumps on her lymph nodes in February 2008 did everyone start wishing for the good old days of when Goethe was in need of simple orthopedic surgery. The next day, G was diagnosed with malignant lymphoma. There were two options: begin chemotherapy and hope for the best or let Goethe live out her life until the day came when she wasn’t enjoying being alive. Jill and Karl Lueders tried chemotherapy, and for about two months, G enjoyed complete remission. Eventually, it became clear to the good folks at the VRCC that Goethe was not responding to the protocol. At that point, visits to oncologist extraordinaire Robin Elmslie became necessary to simply know when her quality of life was going to start deteriorating.
On May 11, 2008, Goethe chased her tennis ball as usual. On May 12, Goethe lost interest in the tennis ball, an object that she would choose over food. On May 13, the Lueders brought Goethe to VRCC to take her pain away.
For more information on how to contribute, click here or watch the video about The Goethe Fund.
