Gus passed away this morning from what appears to be heart failure.
In October of 2007, Thor and I found a listing online for a husky mix who needed to be adopted from a shelter. We drove to some awful industrial city in inland southern California and found the address of a mostly-chihuahua dog rescue. I had never had a dog of my own, and it was the month of my birthday, so Thor and I thought we'd see if this dog might be the right one for us. The lady at the shelter warned us that you'd been caged up in an alley and neglected.
When the woman who owned the shelter opened the front door, you came running out. You were skinny, with matted hair, and a devoted following of flies. I thought, "That is one sorry-looking dog." But when I looked at Thor's face, he looked like a 6 year-old on Christmas morning. I knew in that moment you'd be coming home with us. You, the sled dog who seemed to think he was a chihuahua.
For almost five years, you were the cuddliest member of our family. You enriched our lives, entertained our children, and gave me a warm place to put my hands on snowy days.
It comforts me to think that there might be such a thing as Dog Heaven, with limitless treats and belly scratches. Because if there is, you're there.
Thank you for everything you did for us.
Love,
Brooke & Thor & Laney & Hagen
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