"Some men learn about forgiveness by studying the lives of saints. And some of us keep dogs. . . ."
For nearly thirteen years, C. W. Gusewelle, a columnist for The Kansas City Star, wrote about his relationship with a very special friend, the Brittany bird dog named Rufus. Gusewelle chronicled their adventures, the lessons learned, the bits of wisdom gained. Now he has gathered these heartwarming, often humorous columns into one timeless tale of a man and his dog: The Rufus Chronicle.
When Gusewelle first saw Rufus as a puppy, he was a mere tangle of orange and white fur. Feisty and inquisitive, Rufus seemed the perfect companion for Gusewelle's hunting jaunts on chilly Missouri mornings. The plan was that he'd be an outdoor dog. But Rufus decided otherwise, and quickly made his mischievous way inside the house.
Rufus also made his way inside his owner's heart. For when the nip of fall touched the air, he was waiting by the door, devoted to those frosty meadows, their time together, and the scent of coveyed quail. And when the season ended, they always believed they would have another autumn.
Rufus was a dog for all seasons--as noble in friendship as in the field . . . and anyone who reads this book will fall in love with his undying spirit.
For nearly thirteen years, C. W. Gusewelle, a columnist for The Kansas City Star, wrote about his relationship with a very special friend, the Brittany bird dog named Rufus. Gusewelle chronicled their adventures, the lessons learned, the bits of wisdom gained. Now he has gathered these heartwarming, often humorous columns into one timeless tale of a man and his dog: The Rufus Chronicle.
When Gusewelle first saw Rufus as a puppy, he was a mere tangle of orange and white fur. Feisty and inquisitive, Rufus seemed the perfect companion for Gusewelle's hunting jaunts on chilly Missouri mornings. The plan was that he'd be an outdoor dog. But Rufus decided otherwise, and quickly made his mischievous way inside the house.
Rufus also made his way inside his owner's heart. For when the nip of fall touched the air, he was waiting by the door, devoted to those frosty meadows, their time together, and the scent of coveyed quail. And when the season ended, they always believed they would have another autumn.
Rufus was a dog for all seasons--as noble in friendship as in the field . . . and anyone who reads this book will fall in love with his undying spirit.
