Rest in peace, Gussie Boy
With tears in my eyes, I share the news that we had to say goodbye to Gus.
Almost 14 years ago, Thomas got Gus as a wee puppy, just weeks after Mazen was born.
He came into my life when Gus (and Mazen) were three.
Gus was the sweetest dog I’ve ever met. He loved everyone and would lean all his weight into them until they petted him.
Gus was especially clingy to me when I was pregnant with Birch. He definitely knew.
And he never minded Birch crawling all over him.
His bark was loud (VERY loud!) every time the doorbell rang, but no matter who was behind the door, he would rush over—usually alarming delivery people—and immediately ask to be petted.
We was also rawhide obsessed!
Grammie loved to bring Gus toys, which he would rip to shreds within minutes. She hunted for indestructible toys too, but he always found a way. Once he learned she was the bringer of toys, he would start going through her bags with his nose when she arrived from NC.
Gus was somewhat famous on our street. When describing where I lived, people would often respond, “Oh, you mean the house with the lab?” Lots of people knew him from his lounging perch next to the back door.
When he was hungry, Gus would leap into the air like a deer. And when he wanted to be let out, he would nudge you with his nose. In his younger years, he would often put only his front paws on your lap in a silly position that was half on, half off the couch.
Gus’s parents were a brown lab and a doodle. He was tall and known for his long doodle legs. He did not, however, inherit the doodle fur. Instead, he had an exotic mutation that caused him to be the sheddiest dog in America. I swear a cloud of fur followed him wherever he went. And if you petted his back, you’d end up with a yarn-sized ball of fur in your hand.
Our invisible fence had been broken for years, but Gus didn’t know it. Until we landscaped the yard and he figured it out. He would go on walkabouts around the neighborhood without us realizing it until a kind neighbor would return him, panting like he’d been on a very long journey. While it wasn’t great that he was on the loose, we secretly loved that he got to explore more of the world in his final year.
In the end, Gus could barely walk. But when the boys and I went over for our final goodbye, he heard our voices, jumped up, and ran out the door, barking in greeting. His love for us was loyal to the very end.
We will all miss him so much.
