Sir Reginald Gustafson

Reggie was good boy. He aimed to please in the truest and most sincere sense. He loved to be a good boy, he understood what he was supposed to do and took pride in doing it.

He had a little brown butt, puffy cheeks and a beautiful coat that changed color throughout the year. His ears were soft, his chin and lips had just a touch of white coming in to resemble a little milk moustache.

He was a lab through and through; still a puppy at six. He had the excitement of a puppy, the wag, the bounce, the appetite and the love. He wiggled and wagged, he wore his heart on his tail. Scooter’s energy was joyful and infectious. He loved a walk, a hike, swimming, jumping off the dock, playing with friends, bounding through the snow, riding in the car, a kayak or a canoe, he enjoyed sitting in the yard, hanging out in the peanut butter room, sitting on the porch, going for a ski, taking a bike ride and he was always up for a mouse hunt. Whatever it was Reggie was up for it. His favorite toy was the large Jollyball made for horses, his exuberance demanded a toy that could handle full-contact play.

Super Fudge reared back on his hind legs when he played; front paws up in front of him like he could fly away…ready to pounce on his victim. Most of the time that victim was his sister, whom he loved dearly and feared about once a month when she wanted to make the point. He loved her, and she loved him. Their greetings when reunited after hours or days apart were the sweetest; snout to snout, nuzzling and wagging, they missed each other and rejoiced when reconnected. Fudgie picked his sister Bernadette early on, even over his littermate. On their first night away from their mother and other siblings, he chose to play with Barnacle over his own littermate. He loved his new sister more than his first.

Reggie was suspicious of certain smells. He didn’t care for loud sharp noises but was getting better with them. He had come to accept the smell of WD40, he was still growing up, he was getting wiser, sweeter and braver. He had grown to love a good view; a view of the water, a view of wildlife but most of all a view of what might happen. He wanted to see what was coming; down the driveway, across the sidewalk, past the house on the road. Scooter Brown wanted the first view and was ready to sound the alarm as needed. He knew how to relax and was ready to take it easy.

He was ready to run too though. When he got on certain trails, in some fields he would open it up like he had been held back. He would run like his back half was trying to pass the front half. He ran as though there was a herd running right behind him, all around him, he ran like he was leading a charge. He ran like he was celebrating. We took regular “laps” around the property and he was thrilled every time; butt-tucking and bouncing the first 20 yards up the driveway even if it was the third lap of the day.

Reggie was spoiled, he lived a wonderful life. He was deeply loved and had a life every dog deserves. His absence has left a hole, a missing part. He will be missed, and loved, for a long time.