Guest Who Stayed Not Long Enough

He was a mysterious stranger who simply materialized in our midst one frigid February. You wanted to say “cocker” when you looked at him, but the minute you said it you knew the label didn’t quite fit.

As much as anything, he looked to be a cross between a spaniel and a baby harp seal, a small honey-colored politician canvassing the block.

Nothing about him said “lost.” This, I’m sure, is because he was not lost - not then or ever in his life. He was just there on business known only to him.

He was such an amiable dog that each of us neighbors assumed he belonged to one of the others. Surely, he had lived among us for years without our noticing.

We would invite him in, as you would any neighbor, but also to keep him from getting run over. The hospitable thing was to put water down for him and set out a little food.

“Oh, no kibble for me, thank you,” he would say. “Is that a tuna sandwich you’re having? Yes, thank you, I would have a bite. Mmm, that’s good. Were you going to eat the rest?”

Then he would curl up in front of the fire until the snow dried from his fur, catch 40 winks, and politely take his leave, the perfect guest.

After a few days of this, it became obvious that he was between situations in his life. He didn’t have any identification, however, and there were no lost dog ads in the paper that fit his description.

Everyone waited for someone else to either call the pound or adopt him.

Looking back, I can see that he “took” us the way any good con man would. Over the years he conned me so many times that I stopped minding. Eventually, I didn’t even notice.

He timed that first ploy perfectly. One morning as I put the trash out, he moved stiffly from beneath one of our bushes, modestly clearing his throat. His coat was a block of ice.

We ran “found dog” ads in the paper for days. No takers.

During this time he conducted a series of interviews with our family. He critiqued the food and advised us on improving meal service. He evaluated the benefits package, inquired after the health plan, compared our offer with others.

Finally, he hired us.

“Intact male, about 5 years old, excellent health,” pronounced Dr. Whipps, his new physician.

Excellent health, that is, except for his teeth, which showed the effects of years of soft human food. Naturally, this triggered the dental plan.

We named him Gus. He was a good friend and a good dog, durable as a Timex watch.

His strong points were a comical nature, gentle soul, love of humankind, a passion for natural history and current affairs - all evident during his neighborhood strolls.

From a boulder or a telephone pole or a fire hydrant or a flower border, he would catch the whiff of some surprising development. Certain that I detected the same information, he would jerk his head toward me for a reaction.

“Can you believe this?” he asked as he lifted his leg to reply. He was a faithful correspondent who answered every message.

He was also a brave defender against wasps and was delighted whenever they established a colony in his territory.

His weaknesses were trash receptacles of every description, other people’s food, the song of the open road and a farcical libido (large lady dogs drove him wild; he once tried to breed a pet rabbit).

Even when he was old, people looked at him and exclaimed, “What a cute puppy!”

His face on a poster could have raised millions to save the species of your choice.

He was humble and never demanded center stage.

He was arrested on vagrancy charges a few times and I bailed him out. He never said thank you, only, “What took you so long?”

Gus stayed with us for 13 years, until he had to keep the appointment none can avoid. We buried him under flowers in the back yard.

Every now and then, I think I catch sight of him out of the corner of my eye.

xxxx