Rest in Peace, Gussie Boy
With tears in my eyes, I told Gus the news that I had to say goodbye.
Thomas adopted Gus as a young puppy about 14 years ago, a few weeks before Mazen was born.
He came into my life when Gus (and Mazen) were three years old.
Gus was the sweetest dog I’ve ever met. He loved everyone and would put all his weight on them until they petted him.
When I was pregnant with Birch, the gas became especially clingy to me. He definitely knew.
And he didn’t mind Birch crawling all over him.
Every time the doorbell rang, his barking was so loud (so loud!) that no matter who was on the other side of the door, he would rush over, usually alarming the delivery guy and asking to be petted right away.
We were also obsessed with rawhide!
Grammy loved bringing gas toys and would tear them to shreds within minutes. She was also looking for an unbreakable toy, but he always found a way. When he learned she was the one who brought the toys, he began sniffing her bag when she arrived from North Carolina.
Gus was somewhat famous on our street. When I describe where I lived, people often respond, “Oh, you mean the house with the lab?” Many people knew him as he lounged next to the back door.
When Gus was hungry, he took to the air like a deer. And when he wanted you to go outside, he would poke you with his nose. When he was younger, he would often put only his front paws on your lap in a silly position, half on the couch, half off the couch.
Gus’ parents were brown labs and graffiti. He was known for his tall stature and long, doodle-like legs. But he didn’t inherit that graffiti fur. Instead, he has an exotic mutation that makes him the shedding dog in America. I swear, wherever he goes, a cloud of fur follows him. If you pat his back, you’ll end up with a thread-sized ball of hair on your hand.
Our invisible fence had been broken for years, but Gus didn’t know it. Until we took care of the garden and he figured it out. He wandered around the neighborhood without us noticing, panting as if he had been on a long journey, until a kind neighbor returned him. While it wasn’t great to see him wandering around, we secretly liked that he got to explore the world more in his final years.
In the end, Gus could barely walk. But when the boys and I went to say our final goodbyes, he heard us, jumped up, and ran out the door with a hello bark. His love for us was faithful to the end.
We will all miss him very much.
