For the Love of Gus

A face everyone can love.

Meet Gustavo, my next-door neighbor.

Gus is a wolf hybrid. He is actually my next-door neighbor’s dog. My next-door neighbor tried to tell me, when he first moved in, that Gus was a huskie.

My next-door neighbor came to my front door with this one-hundred-pound mass of grey fur. I was a bit taken aback when I first saw him and I knew instantly that this was no huskie.

I said, “That dog is not a huskie. He looks like a wolf hybrid to me.” My neighbor looked a little sheepish—no pun intended—and said, “That’s what I’ve been told before.”

He was Gus’s second owner and had rescued him from a bad situation.

At first, Gus’s size kept me at bay but he had that unmistakable look of love about him, that sweet, gentle, if-you-were-bigger-I-would-crawl-right-up-in-your-lap-and-stay-there-forever look.

Wolves aren't built for California summers

The next time I saw him he was tied up in his backyard—alone. Wolves aren’t meant to be alone, despite what you’ve heard about that whole “lone wolf” thing.

Wolves are pack animals.

I would see Gus tied up day after day. When I questioned his owner about it he said he did it because Gus can escape from any yard—fenced or not.

Gus’s owner said that he had to work long hours because of the economy.

After a while Gus started to cry constantly, so one of the neighbors called the county. Now, you must understand that despite his crying, Gus is not abused.

His owner walks him every morning. He supplies Gus with ample food and water, so the county just made Gus’s owner put Gus on a zip line rather than a single chain. But he is still alone.

O.K. To make a long story even longer, I called Gus’s owner and asked if I could bring him over to my house for the day. After having Gus at our house for the day, we found out that he is like a potato chip.

You can’t just have just one day with Gus, so many more Gus days have followed.

Our pack is now complete.