“Boy,” he said, “I will tell you a very wise thing. If a man is really intelligent, there’s practically nothing a good dog can’t teach him.”
– Robert Ruark (1915-65), novelist and outdoor writer, from his essay Old Dogs and Old Men Smell Bad, from the book The Old Man and the Boy
Gus the enforcer
If Gus says “Down!” your belly better hit the ground in less than two seconds or you are going to be knocked rolling.
Gus is a seventy-five pound German shepherd. He does not tolerate misbehavior in my French spaniels. They are Francaise. He is Teutonic. They are canine revelers. He is a police dog.
When les petite mademoiselles Abbey and Sasha bounce out of their kennel runs for the morning walk on the farm, der oberst hauptmann Gus stands waiting. Each of the boisterous ladies runs a circle around him. He barks twice. They stop and drop. He tilts his head and utters his guttural yowl. They dash across the yard to the weedy edge of the dry run, squat, and piddle. He sniffs his approval and points to the lane leading up to the hayfield. They dash away.
Gus turns and looks back at me. “Kommen sie, schnell!” he orders. I kommen. Schnell.








