Gus, Knocking At My Door

It was the softest scratch, like a whisper at the door.  But I heard it and immediately knew what it was.

Gus was scratching at my studio door to come in.

It was the first time he did that.  I guess he learned it from Fate.  I remember the first time Fate asked to come into my studio with a scratch at the door.  No one taught her that, although at the time I wondered if somehow Frieda wasn’t guiding her from where ever dogs go when they die.

Gus is doing a lot of things for the first time.

He seems to have springs in his legs that are just finding out what they can do.  He jumps all over the place.  Leaping onto Jon’s head when he’s reading in his chair.  Walking around my shoulders when I’m blogging on the couch.

This morning he found his perch on the console between the front seats in the car.   He sat there the whole way into town, watching the world go by with great concentration and interest.

I got the feeling that maybe Fate was a small dog trapped in a medium-sized dog body.  She loves to climb and  has tried many times to fit all four of her feet on the console.  I have no doubt she could balance there too, if she wasn’t so big.