I hear a deep-throated complaint from Gypsy, followed by a shrill warning bark. It's morning. FLD Gus bounces backwards, all four feet airborne. He plops into a play-bow, pink tongue lapping wildly as he rock-and-rolls around the grouchy brown dog.
"Come on," he gestures with a squiggling black body of puppy-power, "let's play!"
Gypsy will have none of this; she howls at him again. Gypsy, quiet! I whisper. With these two, my neighbors won't need an alarm clock.
FLD Gus twirls his enthusiasm to me. "Yippee! You're up!"
Earlier (5:00 am!), I took Gus out to "park," sent him packing back into his crate, then returned to bed for as much time as I could wrangle. About an hour later I heard Andy grinding beans; he took both dogs out a second time while his coffee brewed. When he came back in with them, there was no more sleeping.
Gus, where's your toy? Find it! I say. There is a soft puppy-Nylabone lying on the floor behind him. I point. Gus turns, spots his tail instead and it's off to the races! I retrieve the toy and say, Gus, sit. He sits, swaying a bit from his tail-chasing. Good sit. Gus, down. Inch-by-inch his front paws measure him down, eyes locked on the toy in my right hand.
Gus. Take it. He lunges and I just barely pull my fingers free.
FLD Gus tosses the toy in the air but misses catching it. He pounces. "Got it!" As he zips away, I notice a small red spot on the light-green carpet.
Gus! He scampers back to me with his head high, jaws snapping intently on the Nylabone.
Gus. Settle. I cradle the exuberant critter in my lap, grasp the toy, and gently draw his lower lip back to sneak a peek.
Andy, I call. Gus lost his first tooth!