In the spirit (and schnozz-salience) of reindeer Rudolf, Gus knows how to bring Christmas cheer to children far and wide. In fact, he’s become quite the animal ambASSador [rim shot] to Saratoga-area residents and tourists of all ages.
After his promotional endorsement gig for the publisher of Running with Sherman, another of his local fans brings her huge gaggle of kids and grandkids who're visiting for the holidays. Even when the grands swarm Gus and belabor him mightily with gang pat-pats, he stands placidly and guzzles up the love. He’s also gratified to see them troop into the arena to watch him perform. But I’m surprised that the audio component of the crowd spooks him a bit. He gazes at them adoringly in their chairs, but when they ooh, aah, or cheer at his tricks, he jumps and scoots.
When Gus is on his pedestal, which is situated pretty close to the audience seating, I figure he might balk at the prospect of pirouetting, since that places the viewers behind him for a moment or two. And behind is where wolves and cougars come from. But he trusts his fans enough to twirl around with apparent confidence — until they approve volubly, causing him to plunge suddenly off the pedestal and crash into me. (Not again, I think, as I feel the familiar scrub of soft fur up my nose.) This time, though, he sidles and spins to avoid knocking me flat; the only casualty is my glasses, which get squashed against my face and are now in dire need of an optician’s pliers. Always a gamer, Gus recovers his aplomb and remounts the pedestal for more showing off.
He wows the crowd with beach-ball bopping and basketball dunking, and especially impresses the adults with tilt-a-chair. After farewell pat-pats, the humans head home, leaving Gus to his grooming and his dinner. And to all a good night.
