Gibby has hands

Gibby had a wonderful time with a stick today. When I quit tossing it for him because it was too hot for running around, he played his own game with it. He uses his paws more like hands than most dogs - Patches uses her paws the same way. With Patches, I often feel I could hand something to her and say, "Here, hold this for me." and she would. Gibby almost takes his dinner out of my hands with his hands - one of these days his dinner will probably be knocked down into the dust in his pen.

Gibby the Observer

Gibby was more observer than participant today. The Araucauna rooster, who was supposed to be a hen, flew out of the big cage just as I stepped in to fill the feeder - he flew so close to me that it felt like his wing did a push-off on my shoulder. A couple times in the past, he rushed around when I stepped into the cage, but this looked like a planned escape. The time I had to play with Gibby was spent trying to recapture the rooster.

I don't know why any bird would want to be loose in a yard full of twenty or more cats, but this guy didn't seem to see the cats as any kind of threat. He marched right up to some of them and scared others. At one point, he dove into the waist high weeds in front of the red house and must have landed right on a cat, because there was a sudden explosion and a flash of cat above the weeds headed to the left while the rooster headed to the right.

Every time I tried to head the rooster off, he flew or ran in the opposite direction. Somehow, he knew he shouldn't head toward the yard where the dogs were waiting. He went that way once but immediately turned back. At first, Gibby and Patches were barking, but then became very silent. For another half hour, they just watched.

Finally, I realized the Araucauna hens were all roosting, so I opened the gate and left it open. The rooster was on the porch of the old red house where some antique chairs were piled, waiting to be refinished. He heard me approach and ran into a dead end. He was caught between the chairs and a wall and couldn't get out, but I couldn't figure out how to get him out either. I moved some of the chairs and let him loose. He ran right away toward the chicken cage - ran past, and then turned back and went right into the cage. Whew.

Gibby must have watched carefully, because he barked again the minute the cage door closed.

Gibby met a horse tonight

I was in the barn, turning off the water, when I heard some barking that sounded like strangers were approaching. I thought at first that maybe someone was turning around in the driveway since Gibby and Patches had gone bark-berserk a little earlier when that happened, so I didn't hurry to look outside. Then the barking sounded more insistent and I decided I better hustle and see who was there. A friend had told me he would come to the farm if he couldn't get a problem sorted out, so I thought maybe it was him, but I got to the barn door and saw an empty driveway - with the barking still insistent.

I didn't discover what was happening until after I had already scolded Patches for barking and put her and Blue back into the car where even George was barking - for the very first time, according to my mother (who is deaf, but today George was sitting right behind her.) Gibby was barking toward the barn - and then I finally saw why - Ballyteague, the white horse in the photos posted a couple days ago, was playing with Gibby! 'Teague was sticking his head over the gate that blocked the open barn door, then ducking back inside, waiting until the barking slowed down, then poking his nose out again. I guess Gibby isn't the only critter on the farm who has a sense of humor!

Gibby is a real character

Gibby is really an unusual dog. He has a sense of fun and love that just seems to burst out of him. Physically, he's getting stronger all the time, which is hard for me. He should probably belong to a teenaged boy who could run and jump and wrestle with him, but he got stuck with a creaky old lady. Today, we played catch with some sticks and with a rubber dog toy - that dog is fast! He didn't miss catching a stick once. The rubber toy - I think it's called a kong - bounces in odd ways, so Gibby would catch it and then throw it down on the ground and I could almost hear him laugh! He seemed so happy today - rolling and rolling in the grass, running through the trees and then back out again without getting his cable tangled.

Last night, I gave him, as I do almost every night, a packaged dinner that my mother didn't eat. It was a chicken breast with clumpy rice and veggies and I didn't want him to swallow it in one gulp, so I took it out of the package and cut it up. Then I dumped it on top of the dry dog food in the big mixing bowl I was going to carry out to the dog pen. He ran to the pen first, jumping up and down on his front legs like a kid's toy, and was really anxious for his dinner. I dumped it quickly into his food pan - and got the dirtiest look any dog has ever given me! When I dumped the bowl, the good stuff went to the bottom and he couldn't see it. I told him to dig in, and he did, pushing the dry stuff out of the way to get to the chicken. I left him sorting out his food.

Tonight, I gave him two packaged lunches that my mother and I didn't eat - hot dogs and beans. When I left Gibby, he was standing there with a hot dog sticking out of both sides of his mouth - I think he was asking if this was food or a toy. I'm thinking his former caretakers didn't give him people food.

Gibby Couldn't Chase Cats Today

Had a fairly successful solution to Gibby's cat chasing problem today. Instead of letting him run completely free in the whole barnyard, I put him on a cable fastened to the pen fence. He could go as far as the part of the yard where I fastened Blue and Patches. Once again, George avoided Gibby and Blue attacked him. Patches went into her worst behavior, barking and pulling as hard as possible on her line. Her barking is dreadful - non-stop and high pitched. Very hard to do anything with Gibby with that barking going on. I'm considering getting out the electric shock collar that I've had unused in a case for years now - it was supposed to be for training dogs for working with horses.
The cable was a little dangerous, Gibby moves so fast he almost tripped me a couple times, but it was a lot better than seeing the cats terrified. Gibby seemed quite happy, even settled down and rolled on the grass for a while. I'm still thinking he might be a better dog for Mike to have, but Mother said tonight that she's getting really fond of him. Maybe all the trouble is worth being able to see the happy look on her face when she looks at him.

While everything was calm, I took some photos of the horses who were coming outside during the daylight for the first time since the weather turned so hot. I think they'll be pretty startled when they meet Gibby for the first time.

Gibby is Difficult

Gibby is not an easy dog to train. This week, I've been trying to let him out to play with the other dogs while I've been doing chores. George avoids him, Blue attacks him, and Patches barks the whole time. Gibby is a cat chaser and a very serious cat chaser, and that means I will not be able to let him have the run of the farm as I had planned. Also, he is waaaay too strong for me. I don't want to work with a choke chain just to teach him to walk with me. He listens to me when he wants to, not when he wants to chase a cat or jump on the car. I was worried today that he was going to try to climb into the car through the passenger side window - where he would have landed on my mother. He had his front legs on the window ledge and his back legs poised to jump when I grabbed his collar and, braced against the car, had to use all my strength to stop him. In the meantime, my mother was sweet-talking him, not realizing she was in danger.
I talked to an old friend, Mike, who dearly loved a yellow lab I gave him as a puppy about 16 years ago. Dusty was his constant companion, going to work with Mike and resting on his jacket until Mike would tell her to move. I invited Mike to stop over and see Gibby, he said he would if he saw that I was at the farm. Mike is not a big guy, but he is extremely strong. He roofed my barn all by himself, swinging around on it like a monkey. One year, when I was having him patch the roof before we realized the whole roof needed to be replaced, I was worried about his safety, so I had him wear a harness attached to a long rope, and tied the rope to the bumper of my old Chevy pick-up. He was working on the back side of the barn roof when a friend came over and decided to borrow the Chevy. She was in the truck with the engine on when I came out of the barn and saw what was about to happen. Another time, Mike was helping me by building a new stallion pen at the back of the barn. He had the fence and gate finished and was using a weed-whipper to clear the ground. He apparently whipped into a ground wasps nest because all of a sudden, he came running into the barnyard, with his face green, lips white and protruding, eyes panicky - the wasps had literally drilled holes in his head. Luckily, one of my riding students was a doctor, she heard the calls for help, galloped up, ran to her car, and grabbed some hypodermics filled with Benedryl. She started giving him shots every few minutes, got him into her car and drove him in to the hospital where they gave him IV Benedryl for hours. So, you can see I owe this good friend a really nice dog if he just happens to fall in love with Gibby.

Gibby the Guard

A man came to the farm last week to estimate replacing the farmhouse roof. Gibby was in the dog pen, wagging his tail every time I looked at him. The roofer climbed up and down the roof, walked around one side and the front of the house a couple times, but only came near the dog pen once - and Gibby gave him a very threatening and serious sounding bark. So, it looks like Gibby is going to be just right - about everything except the cats. I can't really let him out of the pen to run around the farmyard because of his behavior with the cats. I'm thinking about setting up an electric fence area that would limit Gibby to the yard around the back of the house - the cats seem to have abandoned that yard since Gibby arrived and I moved the black kittens. I'll have to wait until the Oliver tractor is returned and the roof has been replaced, I wouldn't want any problems with Gibby or the fence with workmen around. Right now, Gibby seems quite content with the current arrangement, he's putting on weight, his ribs and spine are no longer obvious visually or to the touch.

Gibby and George

Gibby and George must be friends by now. We decided to drive into the city to have dinner at a spaghetti supper being put on by a friend's church. I didn't want to leave the dogs at home and it was too hot to leave them in the car in the city, so I decided to leave them in the farmhouse again. George was on to my plan the minute we got to the farm and I parked closer to the house than usual. When he got out of the car, he ran in the opposite direction, looking over his shoulder to see what I was going to do. I called him, but didn't go after him. I took the two girls into the house - neither one wanted to go in, but they did with just a little verbal urging. You'd never guess these dogs lived in this house for years - it was Blue's home for ten years, Patches for about eight years - and I always thought they were happy here!

When I went back outside, George came a little closer, unsure about what to do. I went to him and put a noose around his neck - using the same method they used at the dog pound. That made him so mad, it looked like he was willing to choke himself rather than move, but I surprised him by moving away from the house so he got up on his feet and walked, then I just turned him around. It took a lot of gagging and coughing, but I got him into the house.

We had a great time in the city, met a friend, and had dinner. Unfortunately for me, we had a few miles of walking up and down hills in the process and I was quite worn out by the time we got back to the farm. I parked near the house again and said hello to Gibby - but, it wasn't Gibby! Standing in Gibby's usual spot in the dog pen, was George! The house and the dog pen were both still tightly closed up. I have no idea how long George was in the pen with Gibby, it could have been as long as four hours - and neither one of them looked the worse for wear.

I went inside to get the little dogs and discovered that someone had chewed through the lock on the inside door and jammed the door so I had to pry it open. Then, inside, suddenly, George appeared. He really had his inside/ouside methods worked out. I check out the library door - it's a pocket door that will never be in a pocket again - it was so destroyed that it had become a swinging door, and the outside door on the other side of it was wide open. Gibby was sitting there smiling. I was so tired from the walking that I blocked the library doorway and figured I'd solve the door problems tomorrow. For tonight, Gibby has access to the basement if he wants it. I hope he chooses to stay in the dogpen - it wouldn't be too hard for him to dig his way out of that basement if he started digging in the right place.

Gibby and the Girls

Gibby is still supposed to be taking it easy as he recuperates from his surgery, but I am hopeful he can at least have some friendly time with the other dogs. He is still too threatening with George, so George has no interest in him at all, but I think Patches might like to play with him. I put Blue and Patches on their leash next to the pen again and Blue wanted to chew on Gibby again - but Patches looked like she would like to play. However, by the time I took a picture, the girls seem to have lost interest. Gibby, also, seemed to have lost interest in getting out of the pen - when I gave him a chance, he turned me down! It could be that Blue exerted her alpha status in some kind of subtle doggy threat way and told him to stay put, and stay put he did.

Gibby Almost Played

Gibby met George and Blue and Patches today. It looks like he and George are not going to be friends, Gibby's reaction to George was threatening - George turned away and I called him off. Gibby stalked away.

For the second time, I put Blue and Patches next to the dog pen and hooked their leash to the fence. Blue gave Gibby a couple of bossy barks and Patches jumped at the fence like she'd like to go through it to get to him. I left them there this time so they could calm down and maybe get friendlier, but that didn't happen. It didn't happen because of the cats - all of a sudden the whole cat colony was heading for us - a half dozen cats and a number of kittens all heading for the dogs who would like to eliminate them. Blue and Patches went nuts - attacked each other, jumped at Gibby, and tangled their double twenty-foot leash around a little scrub tree in an impossible way. I had to eliminate the tree to get them free, and got them under tight control just as a fuzzy black kitten got within reach. Poor Gibby was left behind as I maneuvered the feisty heelers over to the car. As soon as I got the little dogs in the car, Gibby got out again. This time, he went right back to the pen when I told him to, and then he stayed long enough for me to feed the cats over by the other house. He chose to stay in the pen, which was a good thing, because all of a sudden four little black kittens - smaller than tennis balls - were marching from the bushes by the back door of the farmhouse, across the lawn, through the driveway, and over toward the other house where the other cats were being fed. I picked up two of them and carried them over while the other two ran and hid in some bushes. None of the big cats seemed to claim them, although the yellow tom gave one of them a nose touch, so I think their mother was Blackie and she is gone. After a few tries, I caught the third kitten, but that kitten really made me pay - she sunk her teeth into my finger and would not let go until I really pulled her off. I figured the fourth one would find his way over to the other kittens so I left him alone. The next time I saw him, he was heading back to the farmhouse all alone.

This all took a couple hours, and it was raining almost the whole time. That's all the time we had - so, Gibby almost had a playdate with the other dogs. I keep thinking Patches and Gibby might become playful friends, Patches loves to play and Blue and George are too calm and quiet for her, so, I'll keep trying.

Gibby is an Escape Expert

He got out again. Got to the farm yesterday, and there he was, creeping around the corner of the house to see who drove in the driveway - dancing when he saw who it was. He came running over, dove under the gate, and got to me almost before I got out of the car. I took him back to the pen, secured the gate, and went back to move the car. Gibby was out again before I got to the car. I took him back again - at least, he walked with me like he enjoyed where we were going - he had slipped off his collar, so he walked like a real gentleman, even entering the dog pen as soon as I undid all of the chains supposedly securing it. Then, foolishly, he showed me exactly how he had gotten out.

The bottom of the gate is covered with a sign that says "Caution Registered Quarter Horses". I took it off of a horse trailer that had come up from Texas, where maybe the drivers respect the safety of registered horses more than just ordinary horses. When a very determined Border Collie, named Spot, bent all of the bottom wires and released the bottom of the gate from it's frame so he could escape, I wired the steel sign to the gate. He was the most escaping escaper there ever was. Unfortunately, he escaped one too many times and was killed on the road. My road is extremely dangerous - the speed limit is 55 but it is a major route from the expressway to the distant lakes and subdivisions and people drive it at horrendous speeds. That is why I worry so much about escapism. Gibby learned how to apply pressure on the steel sign, broke the rusting wires that were holding it, and chewed up a number of cedar shingles until he could move the whole bundle out of his way. I chained the sign to the gate and that seemed to solve that problem. Gibby was crying when I left.

The one insecure spot no dogs have ever found in the dog pen is the south wall. It's the board wall of the garage/shed that is rapidly tumbling down. It was probably built to hold Model Ts and has never been big enough for my cars or trucks. I haven't put any effort into saving it because I thought it was right on the property line - although I have recently learned that using a satellite system to find the line gives me four inches of free space. That dog pen shared wall is the most secure of the whole little building. For a few years, we had horses living there and had lined the walls with some strong boards. The other side held a clever Humane Society rescue donkey for a while and he ate right through the stall wall and then kicked out the original back wall. We passed him on to some neighbors down the road, who passed him on to people who passed him on... Anyway, that dog pen/garage wall could probably be eaten through easier than destroying the wires holding the steel sign on the gate - knock on wood.

Gibby was a BAD DOG today!

This is Gibby in his jail cell.

I was feeding the cats today when all of a sudden, Gibby was there, chasing the cats. I yelled and he took a dive down the driveway to dance around the car. He wasn't playing with the cats, he was seriously chasing them. I had hoped he was just running at the cats to scatter them, to play with them, but he was too intent. Maybe that's why Blackie is missing.

Gibby heard me yell at him and came to me, so we then dragged each other over to the dog pen. He was very clever with his escape - instead of pushing on the gate and being blocked by the bundle of shingles, he pulled the gate inward. When I visited at lunchtime, I apparently didn't make the gate secure. I told Gibby he was a bad boy and then shunned him (I didn't sit with him at all), but I was really pleased that he 1) didn't break out until I was there, and 2) he did come to me when he was called.

Short Visit with Gibby Today

Gibby didn't notice me when I opened the gate and walked up the driveway with the cats. (This is the third day Blackie has not come running to the gate - I'm afraid something has happened to her.) I walked over to the red house and fed the cats, going in and out of the front door to get the food and slamming it shut and Gibby paid no attention. I walked back to the car and drove it through the gate. By the time I parked it in the driveway, still out of sight from the dog pen, Gibby started barking. I moved the car up to a shady place where Mother could see the cats and chickens and went right over to Gibby. I tried to give him a dog treat through the fence, but he wouldn't take it. I opened the gate, climbed over the bundle of shingles, and joined Gibby in the pen. He was quite anxious to see what food I had and showed no interest in pushing past me to go out of the gate - that's a good sign. I gave him Mother's lunch and left him eating it while I filled his food pan in the house - it's so much easier going in and out of the pen now, but I know I'm not going to like this setup in the winter - maybe by then Gibby will be able to be out loose in the yard. I sat in the chair outside of the pen and tried to get Gibby to sit with me, but he was in constant motion. He has a circular trail through the weeds and he raced around it over and over. I wanted to get a picture of him but something wasn't working right in my camera. I used it on the way down to the farm, trying to get some good shots of a pair of sandhill cranes that were feeding close to the road and somehow I used up all of the storage room and couldn't get any Gibby photos. I also missed photos of three very little kittens playing on the stoop at my back door. I am a little worried that they might be Blackie's kittens and something has happened to her. The yellow tom came over and paid some attention to the kittens, something a mother cat probably wouldn't have allowed, if she was around.

I tried several times to give Gibby a dog treat but he never took it from me, he was too frantic. I'm thinking the only fair thing is to get another dog to keep him company, I hate leaving him all alone. When I left Rusty, at least I knew he had the cats for company, but Gibby is not at all interested in being friendly with the cats. There's another yellow lab listed on the local humane society website...

A Quiet, No-Problem Day

Got to the farm today and Gibby was sound asleep. He didn't wake up until after I'd opened and closed the gate and driven into the parking lot. When he did wake up, he started his quiet bark. He definitely has two different barks - a loud, tough bark and a quiet kind of hoarse chuff-chuff. I think the chuff-chuff is a very friendly welcoming bark.

I had a heck of a time undoing the gate - I had somehow tightened the chain so tight that I couldn't get enough slack to open the clips. I decided I'm not doing that again. I gave Gibby some lunch leftovers to eat while I took his dishpan into the house. I gave him dry food on top of canned food. I'm not measuring the dry food, just giving him about twice as much as Rusty and George together used to eat. So far, he's eaten every crumb I've given him.

I think the bundle of cedar shingles is going to secure the gate, so I didn't wrap the chain around and around like I did before - I just tied the gate with the lead rope. It held the gate securely while I did the rest of the chores, so I left it that way for the night. I hope that was a good decision.

Gibby is Penned

This morning, the sky was gray and looked like bad weather was coming, so I raced down to the farm to get Gibby under cover. I wasn't at all sure how I was going to do it.

I started out by tying a tarp in one corner of the dog pen. I put it in the corner where the house is the west wall, figuring that would offer more protection from the wind - which always seems to come from the west. I pulled the larger of the two dog houses over to that corner and then put a soft bed in it. All this time, it was raining softly and Gibby was barking so much that he was losing his voice. I carried his water bucket into the pen, then went back for his food dishpan, filled it, and walked past Gibby with it as I walked to the pen. He saw that food and wanted it, so that was a big help.

He had tangled up the two cables that were fastened to the trees and to him, and somehow, when I took them off the trees, one got tangled around him. I got the cable away from around his legs, but he was so anxious to move that I couldn't get the rest of the cable off of him - which was a good thing. I had a lead rope attached to his collar, but I hate putting enough pressure on it to hold him back - all that does is teach him to pull harder. Luckily, the cable slowed him down. He headed right for the dog pen. We had a very brief difficulty as we passed the back door of the house - he had watched me let the cat in and out and was curious - but with a little tug he went right to the dog pen. He seemed to be quite happy with everything in the pen - he did a quick turn-around in the dog house, sniffed at his food, headed straight for the bath tub and had a drink, then found the horse feed bucket full of rain water and had another drink, then back to the tub and then over to his own water bucket. The pen is big enough for him to run around - about 5o feet by 16 feet. I left the weeds in the center of the pen - I cleared the north end and the south end has a section of cattle fence over it that seems to have retarded plant growth under it - and Gibby dove into the weeds and disappeared for a few minutes. I started worrying about him - I was sitting on a chair outside the pen, so I stood up to get a better look and Gibby suddenly burst out of the weeds like he had just played the best joke on me. I wound a chain around the space between the gate and the fence, tied it also with the lead rope, and left with the belief that Gibby was safe, happy, and had a place to stay dry.

My mother and the other dogs came back to the farm with me for the 5:00 feeding. Gibby still seemed quite happy. I went into the pen with him and gave him a dish of leftovers (Mother only eats a small percentage of any meal she's given) and then left the pen to take care of the chickens and horses. I gave the chickens the rest of Mother's lunch - a dish of lettuce salad and a dish of canned pineapple - they gobbled up the lettuce in seconds, but it was really funny watching them eat pineapple for the first time - a peck here, and peck there, throwing a piece out of the dish, grabbing a piece and running with it like it was a great worm or a fat slug. Chickens are real characters!

I went into the barn to fill the inside water trough. Four of the horses were hanging out in the indoor arena, and the fifth one came running in when he heard the others chasing each other away from the fresh water. I sat inside with them while the trough filled and had just decided it was about time to turn off the water when I heard some barking. I left the arena, closed the door, went to the pump room and turned off the pump - and heard more barking and then the car horn - I ran out of the barn. George was leaning out of a car window and barking down at Gibby - Gibby was dancing around the car!

I grabbed him by the collar and dragged him back to the dog pen. When I left him, I hadn't chained the gate well enough and he pushed the bottom corner out and crawled under the chain. As soon as I put him back in, he showed me how he got out. I chained it a lot more carefully again, then moved a bundle of cedar shingles (in my back yard for me to complete a project I'll probably never finish) in front of the gate - he will never be able to push those out of the way! He is one smart dog, he checked out the gate, learned he couldn't get out again, and went over to his food dish. He was happily eating when we left.

At Last!

Today was the first calm, normal day with Gibby. Everything was okay when we got to the farm - his water bucket was still upright and half full, his cables were all functioning freely and Gibby looked and acted like a very happy dog. I took a packaged steak and potatoes dinner for him and he inhaled it, plus he had eaten all of the dry dog food I left for him last night - maybe he'll start putting on some weight soon.

The cats have abandoned their paths through Gibby's territory - his cat chasing is not a plus in his favor. I'm glad the cats are smart enough to avoid him, I was worried that they were so close to Rusty and so friendly with George that they might not be careful with a new dog - I'm glad I had no need to worry.

George and Gibby had a moment of friendliness today, but I was sitting right between them and I panicked - worried that I'd be caught in the middle of a dogfight - so I jumped, and that made them growl at each other. Maybe next time I won't be so foolish.

Gibby Made His Own Bed

The photo is of my other dogs - from left to right, Blue, Patches, and George. This photo is a couple years old, but it's my favorite. I posted it to help clarify who I am talking about when I mention Blue or Patches or George.


Gibby is not only strong, he's pretty clever, too. Since he destroyed his doggy bed, he made himself a new bed by hollowing out an oval hole in the ground in the bushes, behind a big log. It's a nice safe spot with the log to lean back against. The only thing it doesn't have is protection from bad weather. If I can't find a way to get Gibby living in the dog pen (I've been calling it a kennel, but it's really a big pen) where the dog houses are, I'm going to have to come up with a dog house for him where he is now. I'd much rather have him in the pen where he can run around without a cable attached to his collar, but so far I haven't figured out how to make it safe for him. I spent some time yesterday clearing out weeds in the pen, but there's a lot more to go. Maybe tomorrow I'll have time to work some more and get the weeds cleared away from the second dog house. I think it will be big enough for him.





Today, I took a big bag of leftovers down to the farm for Gibby. When I got there, he had emptied his dishpan full of dry food and dumped over his water bucket. He had a wad of sticks and weeds woven into the intersection of his two cables and the sticks were grabbing the ground and acting like a brake on his dancing around. It took me a long time to unwind the cables from the sticks and while I was doing it, Gibby was paying more attention to me than he was to his food. Several times, George sneaked up to the dishpan and snatched some meat. I know Gibby saw him do it one time, but he didn't object at all. George was a little jealous when I was sitting down with Gibby and he came over to be petted, and Gibby did start to object to that interruption. I had to tell George to go away, I didn't want to get caught in the middle of a dog fight. He did go away - he disappeared! I suddenly realized I couldn't see him anywhere and I started frantically looking in all the usual places, made sure the gate was closed, called and called for him - I think he was punishing me. He eventually strutted out of the barn, head held very high. I think he was telling me not to tell him to go away because he just might.

I've pretty much decided that Gibby really loves people. I can't understand how his previous owners could part with him. I was bending over, picking up the sticks that I'd pulled out of the knots in the cables, and Gibby put his face right in front of mine and gave me a couple of licks. That's a very loving dog.

Gibby is home

Gibby is home. On his first night, he shredded his dog bed.
He seems to be happy, but he barks whenever I am a few steps away from him.
He discovered a way to leap through the scrub bushes to jump up on the woodpile to say good-bye when we leave.