de facebook cette superbe lettre EN HOMMAGE a ce loulou disparu trop tot
source et suite
https://www.facebook.com/oregonweimrescue/photos/a.1059329454083568/2991380290878465/?type=3&theater
IN MEMORIAM: We do not generally share these but this one moved us so...
Gustavo, "Gus," Klinkner passed peacefully after a courageous battle with trying to be a good boy.
Born pure bread and all weim, he spent his first few years in and out
of foster care as he simply outgrew the hearts of well-meaning humans.
In 2011, he met the Klinkners and knew that finally someone understood: he wasn't a bad dog, he was just really hungry.
Proving an old dog actually can learn new tricks, Gus spent the better half of his life exploring the joys of being canine. He mastered total pillow domination, and the art of morphing to the exact dimensions of a king-sized bed. He learned to take the lid off the food bin, the lid off the garbage can, and the lid off the Tupperware container with the cinnamon rolls inside. He helped around the house by clearing and washing the dishes, even when people weren't done eating. And he helped his owners with their weight-loss journey by clearing the counter of a pizza, an entire chicken, a pan of enchiladas, and a half-sheet birthday cake (it was not his birthday.) He couldn't sit, shake, speak, or roll over . . . but he could lap whipped cream straight from the can and had a masterful disappearing act whenever he heard the bath water running.
Gus took seriously his call to protect and serve. He never let a doorbell ring without his direct intervention, always warned the neighborhood when the winds were high, and restricted the squirrels to a designated tree line. He knew to never trust a solicitor in a suit or people who exercise in padded spandex. He daily inspected the foundation of the house by digging a six foot hole, and protected his family from any potential suffocation by removing the stuffing from every comforter they ever owned.
Gus loved deeply, snored loudly, and always let you know exactly what he was thinking. His affection for his people was as intense as his affection for their hamburgers.
Gus is survived by a headless stuffed bunny, a rattle snake sans squeakers, a de-stuffed fox, and a heartbroken family that just wishes they would have remembered to give him the last piece of bacon this morning.
The day Gus's former owner handed him off to the Klinkners, she sighed deeply and said, "I think I told you all the bad things about him." However, she failed to mention that he was in fact the very best bad dog to ever have lived.
In lieu of flowers, Gus's family is requesting that you spend this week eating the donuts, sharing the bacon, and making room on the bed. And most importantly, spend all of your days giving second chances. Because two-legged or four everyone deserves to be loved to their fullest potential.
In 2011, he met the Klinkners and knew that finally someone understood: he wasn't a bad dog, he was just really hungry.
Proving an old dog actually can learn new tricks, Gus spent the better half of his life exploring the joys of being canine. He mastered total pillow domination, and the art of morphing to the exact dimensions of a king-sized bed. He learned to take the lid off the food bin, the lid off the garbage can, and the lid off the Tupperware container with the cinnamon rolls inside. He helped around the house by clearing and washing the dishes, even when people weren't done eating. And he helped his owners with their weight-loss journey by clearing the counter of a pizza, an entire chicken, a pan of enchiladas, and a half-sheet birthday cake (it was not his birthday.) He couldn't sit, shake, speak, or roll over . . . but he could lap whipped cream straight from the can and had a masterful disappearing act whenever he heard the bath water running.
Gus took seriously his call to protect and serve. He never let a doorbell ring without his direct intervention, always warned the neighborhood when the winds were high, and restricted the squirrels to a designated tree line. He knew to never trust a solicitor in a suit or people who exercise in padded spandex. He daily inspected the foundation of the house by digging a six foot hole, and protected his family from any potential suffocation by removing the stuffing from every comforter they ever owned.
Gus loved deeply, snored loudly, and always let you know exactly what he was thinking. His affection for his people was as intense as his affection for their hamburgers.
Gus is survived by a headless stuffed bunny, a rattle snake sans squeakers, a de-stuffed fox, and a heartbroken family that just wishes they would have remembered to give him the last piece of bacon this morning.
The day Gus's former owner handed him off to the Klinkners, she sighed deeply and said, "I think I told you all the bad things about him." However, she failed to mention that he was in fact the very best bad dog to ever have lived.
In lieu of flowers, Gus's family is requesting that you spend this week eating the donuts, sharing the bacon, and making room on the bed. And most importantly, spend all of your days giving second chances. Because two-legged or four everyone deserves to be loved to their fullest potential.
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