The Monster

Even before the Black Horse Distillery, the brewery, or the restaurant was established, Gucci was already part of the story.

A friend of Bernard asked him if he wanted a puppy from a litter of newborn crossbreed puppies. Not wanting to refuse outright, he said he would prefer a female, assuming none would be available. As it happened, there was exactly one female left. That was how Gucci arrived. She was named after the knockoff Gucci bag she was carried in, a tiny Chihuahua–Jack Russell–Dachshund cross with a personality far larger than her size.

Some of her earliest photos show her perched confidently atop one of the much larger Boerboels, fast asleep on the floor. Even then, her character was unmistakable. Bernard, who had a habit of sharing pieces of meat he prepared, would often find Gucci right there among the Boerboels, though usually hanging slightly back, waiting patiently for her moment. Her love for snacks was established early and never faded.

I used to joke that if people didn’t stop feeding her, she would grow so large that she would collapse into a black hole and swallow the universe.

Like many Chihuahuas, Gucci took time to trust people, but once she did, that trust was unwavering. She had a natural need to be the most important dog in the room, which meant you had to greet her first if you hoped to earn any kind of rapport.

I nicknamed her “The Monster”, a title she earned through her unique combination of irresistible cuteness and a tendency to nip at children who ran past too quickly, or at anyone who dared to touch her without her approval.

Because of work and travel, I had never owned pets. That changed the day Karen, Bernard’s wife, handed me Gucci’s basket and said, “She’s your dog now.” By that point, Gucci had already decided she belonged with me. 

Theunis had been part of her life just as long, and in time André also became part of our household. As with everyone new, Gucci made her expectations clear: she had to be greeted first. Once that rule was understood and respected, André earned her trust and became part of the small circle she allowed close.

I took her with me wherever I could. All I had to do was place her carrier in front of her, and she would climb in immediately, ready to go, like a princess accustomed to being carried.

Whenever I worked at my desk and she felt I was not giving her enough attention, she would come over and demand it. After making sure she was not looking for food or water, I would pick her up and let her fall asleep on my lap. Not wanting to disturb her, I often sat in the same position for so long that I would nearly lose feeling in my legs.

 

If you ever visited our tasting room, you may have seen a photo of me holding her. If you joined a brewery or distillery tour, you might have spotted Gucci wandering in search of snacks, eventually finding her way to me in the distillery when her charm failed to convince someone else to share something tasty.

At the remarkable age of 20, her health had declined to the point that she no longer joined me on tours, and on 7 April, her life came to an end.

This is, without question, the most difficult story I have ever written. The space she created in my life is now a void. It shows itself in the quiet moments, in the absence of her trailing behind me, especially into the kitchen, and in the stillness where there was once a constant presence.

But this story does not end only in loss.

Since December 2025, an Australian Cattle Dog named Khaleesi has been part of the household. She is also known as “Mother of Dragons” to those familiar with Game of Thrones, or more accurately, “the Chaos Machine”. Where Gucci was calm, selective, and quietly demanding of attention, Khaleesi is energy in its purest form.

Within her first week at home, Khaleesi had already destroyed her first toy. Where Gucci had little interest in play and ignored balls and other toys, Khaleesi thrives on it. She becomes visibly excited whenever given something new to tear apart, earning her yet another title, Vastatrix, from the Latin word for “destroyer.”

She does not replace Gucci. Nothing could. But in her own way, she fills the house with movement, noise, and a different kind of companionship. Where there is now a void, there is also life continuing around it.