Then came Gus. Augustus Fred Mellor Doyle to be exact.
There were two males in the litter. We drove to the middle of nowhere to pick which one we wanted instead of having the breeder pick for us. MFD is always very quick to remind me that he picked Gus. I picked Non-Gus because Gus Gus bit a hole in my shirt and scratched me while Non-Gus slept peacefully in my arms. This is one time (possibly the only time in history?) that I'm happy I didn't get my way.
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He chose Gus. |
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Gus at the McKnight Block Party - October 2005 |
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Geege's first weekend with us - May 2007 |
And they've made me into a dog person. I can't imagine being without one, ever. Or being without these two specifically, even though they howl at me until I make it inside the house, are constantly underfoot and have even sent me flying down the stairs (I'm talking about YOU, Gus), sometimes mark things inside, bark like demons at passerby when I'm trying to hear the TV, leave hair everywhere, and cost a lot of money. They are a flipping mess and I adore them. They are part of our family. When you walk in, they bumrush you and I don't pull them away. I'm that asshole dog owner. They're excited to see you, says the former non-dog person.
If you had any lingering doubts on how much we consider them part of our family, see below. They were in our wedding, for crap's sake.
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Find the dogs. |
Three of my favorites in party hats with dog prints on them. What's not to love?
Perpetually covered in dog hair and dealing with it,
SMD
p.s. Dear smug dog trainer from around the block walking your enormous perfectly behaved robot dogs and smirking at me as my two small dogs jackass around like nobody's business: Suck it.