In Georgian, that means guardian or sentinel, and the dog was aptly named. Now that she has crossed the Atlantic and resides in our house, she lives up to her name, notifying us when the trash truck turns onto our street, a squirrel runs up a tree in the yard, the UPS man knocks at the door, or a bird alights on the feeder. She lets us know even when she thinks any of these things might happen. We call her Gusha for short, but she doesn't come unless she wants to no matter what we call her.
Recently Kate listened to a program during which an SPCA rep named the standards that organization uses to assess the adoptability of a dog left at one of their shelters. Gusha failed on every count. Is she food aggressive? You bet. If she begins to eat something, forget about taking it away, no matter how inappropriate the morsel she has chosen. Of course, she was rail-thin in Georgia where she had only scraps, usually bread and vegetables, to feed on, so she learned early to hang on to the food she had.
Is she aggressive with strangers? She is aggressive with everyone except the people who live in our house - aggressive with grandchildren, our own children (except for our son Ed, who wrestles with her and chases her around the yard), friends and neighbors, service people, the mail carrier, piano tuner,everyone. When we know someone is coming, we lock the dog in the garage or confine her in the fenced back yard and institute an elaborate warning system to keep guests and dog apart.
As a puppy, Gusha lived in a fenced compound with two related families. The head of one hated dogs and was repeatedly discovered kicking and beating her. This fall my husband Jack walked her on her lead past a neighbor's home. The neighbor was finishing a gardening chore at curbside and hoisted a shovel over his shoulder as they passed. In an instant Gusha was snarling and lunging at the end of her lead, perhaps ready to prevent a repetition of past beatings.
During the football playoffs, Gusha napped quietly in front of the fire, but when a player broke free and threatened to score against my favorite team, I shouted, "Get him, get him, get him!" Gusha leaped up snarling and barking and raced to the door. No one was there, but she continued to defend us for some time before we could persuade her that no threat existed.
Is she aggressive with children? Especially with children. Happy shouts and small feet running outrage her. A single exception: Kate's seven-week-old son Luka. Introduced to him for the first time, she rolled over on her back, exposed her belly and throat, and showed utter submission. When he cries, she grows anxious. If he is carried into a room where she has been napping, she takes an escape route that avoids him.
Gusha hates motorcycles, garbage trucks, bicycles, the shredder in the basement office, eagles and hawks on television, real geese flying overhead and the vacuum cleaner. But she adores us. She likes stuffed animals, works hard to find a squeaker inside, then squeaks it 70 or 80 times in a row. I've counted. If she can arrange it, she likes to sleep with one of Kate's socks.
Next month Kate and her husband Gio move to a condo with Luka. Gusha stays with us. It should be interesting. I'm keeping my socks secure.