I recently took in a coon hound from an animal shelter. He was lost in dark December, wandering rural Vermont. He’s calm, handsome, and affectionate, about a year and a half old. I named him Gus.
Friends of this blog will recall my first dogs, Hank and Rosie. It’s impossible for me to think about dogs without thinking of them. It’s over a year since their death, discussed here. I miss those two every day. We had a unique companionship, and I don’t expect ever to find it again.
It was hard to get another dog. But slowly I decided to try caring for a new friend. We’ll see how it goes.
So here’s Gus. He’s a skinny forty pounds, maybe five pounds just in the big snout and floppy ears. He enjoys sniffing after rabbits in snow and sleeping beside the fire. His dappled coat looks handsome against the Oriental rugs and floor boards, which must be a good omen.