He was one of two puppies from the litter that my mom was trying to decide between keeping one and placing one. Gizmo got chosen over his brother Wolf in part because when Gizmo got loose with the sheep he would bring them to my mom. When Wolf got loose with the sheep he would take them and put them in the pond. Hauling a soggy sheep out of the pond is not something you want to do more than once, if that many.
Gizmo helped test the dog proofing of fencing jobs for many years. He could jump 6 feet, no sweat, or climb higher if he had to. Which is how he got the nickname "Sausage Dog" from being threatened with being turned into one if he ever did that again. Luckily for me, he did not become a sausage, but lived to the ripe old age of 16, eventually settling down to be a good dog when he was too frail to make it over fences. He sired one litter, with Puck, and was the father of my Becky girl.
Though he loved sheep a bit too much, he was a very handsome dog, and as sweet and happy as could be. We used to dance around the kitchen with him, and he'd hop right along on his hind legs like he was doing a polka. He definitely had his father's happy personality.
RIP, Giz
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