Gus: Phew. Glad that's over.

Hi, Diary. I'm Gus. I know I'm the last to write, but my other siblings were so eager to introduce themselves, I decided to let them go first. I'm a patient boy, so I didn't mind waiting. Besides I'm in no hurry. I spend a lot of my time napping. I'm 11 1/2 years old, my legs are arthritic, I'm losing my hearing, and I live in a house with four other dogs. That can make an older guy tired. The great thing is I get to sleep upstairs on Mom and Dad's bed anytime I want - and that's pretty much all the time. I lie there with my stuffed animals Molly Meerkat and Sebastian Bunny. My mom gives me kisses and my dad does a great job scratching my back. I don't think life could get any better.

My full name is Augustus McCray. My dad named me after a lead character in the movie Lonesome Dove, one of his favorites. As you know by now, my dad is big on nicknames. Mine are Gussie, Big Bunny and Roo Bear. I've been with Mom and Dad since 1999 when my mom found me wandering the candy aisle in a 7-11. I was just a little pup, only six months old. She couldn't leave me there, of course, but she couldn't take me home because Dad and she were leaving for vacation the next day, plus they already had two dogs, Bogey and Annie. (I miss them. Annie and I understood each other and Bogey and I were buddies. The two of us snuggled and he licked my ears a lot. Oh, I looooooved that.) So, to Mom and Dad, two dogs were plenty. (Can you imagine?) Mom's only option was to take me to the local animal shelter. She left me in their care with directions to contact her if I didn't get adopted. She called to check on me when she got back from vacation and they told her I had found a home. Well, three months later at the Howl-O-Ween Pet Parade the shelter director told Mom I was still there! Mom was really upset that such a mix-up had happened causing me to live in that shelter for so long. She came home and told Dad and he said, "Bring him home." I was pretty frisky those first few months, but I eventually grew into a very well-behaved doggy. I do have a few nervous ticks, though. For example, I nibble on the bedspread a lot, and sometimes I chase my tail when I get excited. But Mom and Dad don't mind my quirks. They say I have a sweet and gentle soul. They call me an angel.

Yesterday, though, I'd had enough. It was the day that Mom planned to take our picture for this year's Christmas card. She'd spent time searching the right location to take the picture, moved a bench to that spot, set up the tripod, checked the sun and shadows, and tested various settings on her camera. Then she ushered Dad and the rest of us outside for our portrait sitting, which involved a lot of tangled leashes and some confusion. As hard as Mom worked to make everything just right, it still ended up being the worst photo shoot to date. I have to agree. First of all, I just wasn't in the mood. Because I am such a good boy, it's pretty well established that I can do whatever I want around this house, and, well, I didn't feel like sitting still for a picture. I even got up and left a couple of times. Buster wasn't exactly doing his part either. I guess we older guys have done one too many of these things. Anyway, Mom took 30 pictures. Yes, 30. And only one may be good enough for the Christmas card. Mom is kind of disappointed, but she is going to do her best to make the picture work because she doesn't want to go through another portrait sitting. She's not the only one.

Phew. I need a nap.

Signed,

Gus