“He’s just very vocal,” I say as passersby openly stare. “He’s just saying hi.”

When he was a puppy, he was attacked by a big dog in the River Valley at the footbridge near Wolf Willow. The dog was off leash, my biggest pet peeve, in an on-leash area, when it lunged at Gus. My son tried to break it up. In one swoop I pushed my child aside and pushed the dog off and pulled Gus away. Everyone was in tears. Gus’ chest was drenched and I at first thought he was bleeding. Turns out, thankfully, it was just saliva. But the trauma stuck.

Two dog trainers later, I’m finally becoming less protective. He’s getting better with dogs. He now has some buddies, his cousins Sammy and Louie, Monte, Milo, Zeus and Ainslay.

But he still barks. Those who get beagles say: “it will get better; the magic number is 4 years of age.”

He’s pretty good at home. Company tells me they “can’t believe how well behaved he is.” But walking in the River Valley is a challenge. There are too many smells, dogs, and too much stimulation. We encounter all kinds of advice. One man told me: “why don’t you put a bun in his mouth?” Sensing my confusion, he asked: “Are you stupid?” I’m not, I assure you. I have a beagle and I didn’t know a bun was a new training tool for a vocal dog bred for hunting.

We love every bit of #sweetgus, even his spiritedness. We will continue to love him even if the magic age of 4 hits and nothing changes.

So, the next time you see or hear us coming, come say hi, pet Gus, he loves making friends. Just approach slowly, he’s afraid he may get attacked again and his mom is a little afraid too. The stares don’t help but a friendly hello would.

Signed