Pet Tricks

Caesar Augustus, "Gus," was the family dog. Adopted as a puppy when I was still toddling around, he quickly became the 8th member of our family. Dad named him after the first Roman emperor and he fit his name well; he was intelligent, regal in stance, and calm but solid in his role as protector of the household. He was leery of strangers, but took to them easily once he saw that they were friends of the family. When he was still a puppy he got out of the house to chase the mail carrier, nipping at her pant legs. She kicked him away and he never forgot. He reserved his most vicious barking for her. His protective nature aside, he was an obedient sidekick for Dad.

Although us kids were mainly responsible for taking him on walks, filling his food and water bowls and giving him regular attention, he knew Dad was the alpha of the household. Dad's voice would summon Gus from the other side of the house; Gus would come to Dad and sit like a statue in front of him, waiting for his command. Dogs welcome all the attention they can get, but to Gus attention from Dad was golden.

Dad trained him with the usual Sit, Stay, Come commands, but added in his own special tricks. He would balance a Milkbone on his nose and Gus would wait patiently, eyes crossed and focused on the treat, and with a simple "Okay, Gus" from Dad, in one lightning fast motion he'd flip his head back and catch the treat in his mouth.

Gus worked hard and played hard throughout his lifetime. In the end, it was the complications from hip dysplasia that eventually did him in. It was Dad, quietly and alone, who took Gus on his final trip to the vet. Mom and Dad never got another pet to replace him, due in no small part to the fact that they knew how special and unique Gus was and how it'd be impossible to ever replace him in the family.

Paula and I have what very well may be the world's worst dog. Max jumps and licks, runs by the girls and knocks them down, chews up their toys, scratches the doors and chews on the wood molding. He's got selective hearing and can be stubborn and downright bratty. But I have hope. Hope that I can channel some of Dad's calm-but-firm demeanor and hope Max can channel some of Gus' intelligence, patience and obedience. In the meantime, I've managed to teach Max the Milkbone-on-the-nose trick. He's not nearly as willing or agile as Gus ever was, but it's a start.