Gus at four months

He's actually a week or so passed the four month mark, but who's counting. If I'm tallying anything, it's the number of toys he's demolished or the extra number of times I have to vacuum to clean up the evidence of chewed up toys, Kleenex, paper, wrappers he's pulled from the garbage... you get the idea.

Here he is: our 35-pound shredding machine:

I'm not sure which is harder to believe: he's four times the size he was when we brought him home, and he's still going to double in size one more time.

Thirty-five pounds was his official weight Friday at his final puppy check-up. He's now fully immunized and doesn't have to go back to the vet until next fall. (At least not for shots. He'll be making an overnight visit in the next month or so, after which I hope his puppy testosterone will forever be in check. AJ may think Gus likes to hug his leg, but, um... yeah...) I suspect Gus weighs a pound or two more than what the vet's scale recorded. The morning of his visit, my little billy goat threw up. A lot. Pardon the too much information, but it's truly quite amazing how much grossness can come out of a dog this size.

I was concerned at first. Then I remembered the various shredded items I'd been picking up that morning. Let's see... there was the foam sword, a rubber snake and the plastic love of the Little Mermaid's life - Prince Eric. (It's okay in the underwater kingdom. Listening to Sydney play, Ariel didn't grieve for long, she's already moved on to Cinderella's turf and is happily dating Prince Charming.)

The toy snacks were in addition to the cat food and cat litter he snarfed on a sneak visit to the basement. I just can't imagine... what could possibly have upset Gus's stomach?

Overcoming his fear of steps and going downstairs is Gus's newest accomplishment. Much to the cat's dismay. Poor Spike has nowhere safe to hide anymore.

In Gus's defense, he's gotten much better in many areas. He's been fully house-trained for at least a month and generally let's me sleep until 6:55 a.m. on the weekends. He's remarkably consistent in timing when he sounds the alarm that he's been in his kennel too long and can't wait another moment for us to wake up and play with him.

He's also very gentle with the kids. We've needed a few Band-aids for accidental scratches from sharp teeth and claws, but rarely does he get so rough I feel a need to intervene. And he's a very good snuggler.

AJ now expects Gus to wake him each morning for school. The routine is as follows:

1. I lift up Gus and put him on AJ's bed.
2. Gus runs across the bed, stepping on AJ a couple times and nudging him with his nose.
3. AJ sleepily tries to wrap his arm around Gus while Gus checks for anything he can chew up on the shelf of AJ's headboard.
4. AJ at last succeeds in putting Gus in a submission hold so Gus lays down next to him.
5. I return a few minutes later and remind Gus he was supposed to get AJ out of bed.

There's a reason dogs are called man's (or boy's) best friend.