The Love of Puppies

Gus loves puppies. He has eyes that can spot a puppy blocks away when he's in the stroller. His ears pick up puppies barking across town and he drops whatever he's doing so that he can dramatically sign PUPPY with both of his hands to make sure that I notice he's noticed a puppy.

When we were home to North Dakota for Easter, Gus was in his element. At Grandma Kathy's house there lives a mangy canine beast by the name of Katie. Katie once was a hunting dog. Now she's a farm dog in the end stages of her life. She wallows around, runs away a lot, goes swimming in the slough and comes back dripping wet, full of enormous wood ticks. She has long, brown matted fur in every stage of disgruntlement. Most of us adore her from a distance, avoiding a lot of heavy duty petting. Gus, on the other hand, fell in love with Katie. He'd go outside and follow Katie whereever she meandered. He'd give Katie hugs. He'd give Katie kisses on her nose.

On Easter Sunday one of the guests for dinner also brought a little black mop of a dog that came complete with its own water dish and puppy chew toy. Gus wasn't fast enough to give the little black mop kisses and hugs, but he did discover the chew toy, shaped like a puppy that he cuddled for a great length of time, and he had a fantastic time playing with the puppy's water dish.