Anyway, “Gunther’s Millions.” What is that term — hate-watching? Not that I hated the show, whose four hours I watched with growing astonishment straight through. I just don’t like dogs. Fortunately, it isn’t just, or even mostly, about a dog. I’ve overheard enough podcasts in my nine lives to know that the story you think you’re going to be told is never the story you wind up hearing, and that the people who put together these sorts of docuseries keep you on the hook by making each new revelation crazier than the last. I’ve also picked up something about spoilers, just keeping my very acute ears open, so I’m not going to tell you much beyond where “Gunther” begins. And fair enough — I mean, who wants to learn ahead of time that the mouse you’re attacking is just a bag of catnip? Wait until it’s in pieces all over the carpet, I say. “I didn’t see that coming!” Much more fun.
So I will just say that once upon a time — it seems the right way to begin — there was a wealthy German countess named Karlotta Liebenstein, who, having no surviving family, left her money to her German shepherd, Gunther. Gunther shared a name with the countess’ son, who had taken his own life at 26 and loved Gunther the dog. The administration of this trust, which benefits succeeding generations of Gunthers (they are now on Gunther VI), fell to an Italian family friend and former academic named Maurizio Mian, who built an organization around the dog, whose fortune has increased to something near half a billion dollars.
It’s a dog’s life, I’ve heard it said, which apparently means eating steak and caviar, whereas everything I eat comes out of a can. (Owner’s note: This is not true.) They buy Madonna’s old Miami mansion, because Gunther the son apparently dreamed of living in America, and the dog in some way represents his spirit. Gunther the dog likes being on the water, so here comes a yacht. Got to travel? Private jet.
Without being specific, the story goes on to involve a disco flop called “Wild Dog,” soccer teams, porn stars, the banking system of Liechtenstein, the “scientific” investigation of happiness, and a trust-mandated assembly of hot male and female spokesmodels called the Burgundians who move in with Gunther and are constrained to live by the “13 Commandments,” including having sex, taking drugs, making music, partying, being rich and living a “nontraditional” life without borders.