Gustavo

Gustavo was a serious little guy. He went about his job of being the family dog with purpose and intent. He was not, you know, just some silly puppy. He was a real dog he seemed to say and he wanted to be treated with the respect a real, meaning big, dog would get. From the time I opened the door in the morning to let him out until he and I "walked the perimeter" at night to chase away whatever needed chasing away, he was all business. There was serious dog stuff to do everyday and he was just the dog to do it. Even playtime, when he would bring his stuffed Garfield and drop it at the feet of whichever of us he decided should play tug-of-war was done with a kind of "this is important stuff" attitude on his part. It was as if he were consciously entertaining us and not the other way around. He was loyal and dedicated to our little "pack" and was most content when we were all together. He could relax then, hang out and not worry about an absent member.

Gus was, though, almost from the beginning, my dog. Whether he designated me "alpha", as dog trainers like to put it, or whether it was because I took him for long walks and frequent car rides, his favorite things in life and, with him along, a couple of my favorites as well, he became my second shadow. I grew, over his four short years, very accustomed to having him close at hand and always felt vaguely uncomfortable when he was not. I think Charly felt the same. For that reason, she and I made it a practise to take Gus with us whenever and wherever dogs were allowed. Nothing would put more sparkle in his eyes and move his stumpy tail to wag then hearing Charly say "you gedda go, you gedda go" as we walked to the car. And conversely, nothing would make his whole body sag and droop more than when we told him he had to stay home. At those times, we drooped a little ourselves.

When he did "gedda go" Gus would prop himself happily on the back seat with his fore paws on the console between the front seats. This gave him a windshield view and enabled him to get to the serious business of warning other critters away. We were never able to cure him of growling ferociously at whatever beast we happened to drive by. After awhile we just quit trying. What the heck, it only lasted a couple of seconds and it seemed to make him so happy. With Gus serious and happy went hand in hand.

I have written several blogs about Gus, mostly humorous accounts of dog and man that I'm sure Gus would take issue with had he been able to read. Silliness, he would no doubt point out, is a human trait and he was a dog. Dogs he would say, are serious creatures. Then he would roll on his back and wait for the tummy rub.

Gus passed away a couple of night's ago at veterinary hospital in David where we had taken him for treatment of an undetermined illness. The vet said he died of a heart attack related to a heart ailment, probably an inherited condition.

There is nothing wrong with my own ticker that I know of despite the ache of loss that surrounds it. It is where Gus lives now, and always will.