Gus, the cow dog is energy embodied. Every minute is the best day of his life.
And every minute of his life is chaos.
Because he never sleeps.
I swear it. I think I saw him sleep once when he was a tiny baby sitting on my husband’s lap, and that was after several minutes of the man lovingly forcing the pooch to snuggle with him.
And once he might have caught a good thirty seconds on the floor of my office because I provided him with such a nice blanket not even a terror tornado like him could refuse the pull of slumber.
Gus isn’t really into snuggling.
He’s more into face licking, lap standing, and jumping three feet in the air upon your arrival. It doesn’t matter if you saw him two seconds ago. Every greeting from Gus is filled with the enthusiasm of a best friend you haven’t seen for years.
Come over at any given moment and you might find him tormenting the cats, ripping up the bed in his kennel, eating the cord to the heat lamp, attacking the broom when I’m trying to sweep, barking at the sky, eating cow poop and horse poop and cat poop and chewing on Brown Dog’s fat neck, then jumping up and over his back relentlessly, barking and taunting the poor old dog until he finally snaps …and then you will hear Gus The Tough wail the wail of a thousand deaths.
Because Gus has one other feeling besides happy. And that’s his hurt feeling.
It’s pretty traumatic.
I don’t know what I’m going to do with him. I mean, I could teach him anything if I could only keep up with him. He’s smart as a whip. He comes back in a split second on a quick whistle. He sits when asked, and I’ll take it, even though he trembles and shakes the entire time as if the energy in him is bouncing around in that body poking and prodding and begging to be released.
And when he makes his ears stand up like this, well, be still my heart. It’s frickin’ cute as hell and I can’t take it.
He looks like a gremlin.
And well, he sorta is…
Who knew this tiny little grunting fur ball that fit in the palm of my husband’s hand would turn into such a specimen…
And he’s only been alive for like six months.
Oh Gus, it’s fun to watch you grow. And I can’t wait to see how many woodticks/burs/mud/cowpoop you collect when summer comes.
Gus, Gus, Gus…such an adorable bundle of energy and trouble brewing…
If you need us we’ll be out in it…