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Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Little Gus has a plan

I have begun to notice. There’s always that strange look in his eyes. I don’t quite know where he is going with this, but I can tell he is on a journey. He seems to work at it everyday. Not all the time mind you – but he puts time in on it everyday.

With the addition of Little Otis to our humble group it now appears that he is in on it also. I just can’t imagine that KnuckleButt Otis is gonna be that much help in whatever Little Gus is planning to pull off. Although Little Otis’ ability to negotiate any fence and gate in the area just might come in handy to whatever knavery like Little Gus has in mind.

They think that I am not watching, but I catch them whispering to one-another while they sit on the rug in front of the dishwasher and other places. They look like they are warming from their last trek outside on these December mornings. I know different. They are up to something and Little Gus is the ring leader; that is obvious.

One of his tricks is to lure me back outside by pretending that Little Otis has to go. It has nothing to do with Little Otis; it’s all about Little Gus. He just wants me to throw or kick his ball. He will chase a ball all day long if you will oblige him by making it leave the close proximity of anywhere you just might happen to be at the time. He will go get the ball (or his big orange bird if that is the object he has chosen for this trip out). He will bring the ball back, but it is not to be your turn just yet. Not at least until he has thoroughly shaken the ball, he has growled at it for sufficient time (measured only in his mind), he has probably shaken it again for good effect and then he stands there with one foot holding it in place still not having given up control just yet. Then and maybe only then he will back off and bark at you as if giving instructions on velocity, direction and altitude for the next throw. If I don’t respond and kick it or chunk it quickly enough he will repeat the preceding instructions again; this time a little more emphatically and gruff emphasis. I launch the object and the previous takes place again ad infinitum…

It looks as though that Little Gus is having a champion of a time, running here, running there, catching the ball on the first bounce; I believe he has an ulterior motive in mind. While the game almost includes Little Otis, I don’t really think that being run over, stomped on as others pass above him and the possible dislodging of teeth as he attempts to grab the ball as it passes near comes anyway near to being classified as inclusion. The result most of the time is a pretty well beat-up Little Otis not one third of the way into the game; maybe a little more than pretty beat-up might be more appropriate. Little Otis just keeps coming back for more.

No, I don’t think a game is what Little Gus is all about during these incidents; I’m just not convinced. Little Gus is an astute player of the human kind. His mind is always working several steps ahead – not so much with KnuckleButt Otis. I’m not really sure his mind is ever engaged – no proof in his short tenure yet.

I wonder where he got the idea. Maybe this was passed along by Buck before he departed our group. This could be how one generation passes along thoughts, aspirations and goals – I don’t know.

Upon lengthy cogitation of the events I have described above I have decided that Little Gus’s purpose has nothing to do with a dog’s life but has everything to do with a dog’s purpose on this earth. As I sit here and type away (utilizing both fingers that I have train ed to do so) Little Gus jumps up causing me to turn in his direction, placing both front paws on my chest, looks me straight in the eyes and jesters to the back door. Not getting his point across immediately, he gives me one of those little licks on my chin, pats on my chest with one paw or the other and then hugs his head up against my chest and holds it there while he looks up into my eyes again mournfully with those cold dark brown eyes of his and then jesters toward the back door once more. All the while Little Otis nips at Gus’s hind feet – a nuisance none-the-less. Still not getting the response he insists on as I return to typing; he sticks his head up between my body and arm and pushes and shoves as I try to continue – it is down right impossible to type (even with two fingers) under these circumstances.

I request a continuance of just a minute or two hoping to get the last of the current thought recorded. Gus implores me to not but descends to a prone position somehow knowing that I will be true to my word.

No, I have decided that Little Gus motive is a dog’s purpose on earth – to improve the childhood of his human companion no matter how long it takes him and his kind to do so. I know it is a long and hard journey as my canine companions have been working at it for some sixty years or more. I truly wish them luck; I intend to assist them in any way I can. My childhood really needs improving.

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