Doggy Blog

Sweet Lou

Lou means business. And Lou is a wild card. I know these two things because I once read a quote from a very esteemed public figure. I believe I have a copy of that very quote:

I mean business. And I’m a wild card.
— Lou, dog
 The face of a canine that definitely knows what "business" means.

The face of a canine that definitely knows what "business" means.

Jokes and japes aside, Lou is your prototypical "good boy." Lou falls into the category of canines that I call "dictionary dogs," meaning that if you looked up "dog" in the dictionary you would find a picture of Lou. And yes, this works for every dog that you think it would work for—don't ask me how, but the dictionary is a magical instrument and knows what you're looking for. At least mine is and does.

I've heard tell that some think that Lou can be a bit abrasive. I've also heard that he has a bit of a "guard dog" mentality. These are bald-faced lies from people that are likely scary strangers with evil in their hearts. Though it is true that Lou is a bit of a prickly-pear at first blush, once he gets to know you he will ride with you until the very end. I suppose this doesn't bode well for FedEx deliverypeople or mailpersons or that kindly old lady with her bag of groceries (although why would an old lady need that many baguettes in the first place...her teeth are probably soft as brie at this point...seems suspicious...good work barkin' at her Louboy) but it certainly gives me a comforting sense of security. Not that I would ever use Lou's powers for any base reasons, but having a kneehigh, quadripedal peacemaker at your side is not something to turn one's nose up at.

 How could you not be abjectly terrified of this face?

How could you not be abjectly terrified of this face?

Also, Lou only barks at strangers if they try to speak to me, which to be fair, I also sometimes want to do. As long as we give a polite head nod and don't break stride, Lou and I always just cruise on by. I've ran into friends while walking Lou before and had to pretend like I've never met them, walkrunning right past them while muttering something about the weather. It's led to a lot of conversations about whether I am in fact, a incredibly secretive twin, which has proven quite useful in my day-to-day deceptions and doubledeals. However, to obviate the need for such conversations, I've taken to smearing lipstick all over my mouth, wearing a mauve headscarf and the sunglasses they give you after cataract surgery, and sitcking headphones that aren't connected to anything in my ears. It's...working?

Oh, one more Louism: he is very attached to his family and will loose a haunting, plaintive howlcry if he catches even the briefest of glimpses of them while we're out on our walk. It's best to avoid this, because that eerie lilt turns even the lushest, most verdant grasses burnt and brown and weakens the knees of the toughest roughnecks. I'm pretty sure the sun briefly went out last time Lou offered his chilling lament. It's very touching though. Sort of like that feeling you get when you walk over a grave at midnight. Overkill? Let's move on.

 Lou, making sure I haven't fallen down/been attacked by a streetperson/burst into flame.

Lou, making sure I haven't fallen down/been attacked by a streetperson/burst into flame.

He's a grand walker, save for the occasional barks. Ne'er really comes to a full stop, has all of his bathroom manuvers sorted out and as regular as a German train schedule, and perhaps most cutely, regularly looks over his shoulder to make sure that I'm doing alright on our walks. Maybe he thinks that he's walking me? He sorta is I suppose. Other than that, what else to say about Lou that hasn't been said/fabricated already? He's a loyal, slightly nervy, family-oriented dog that, once you break through his tough candy shell has a pleasant nougaty center. A tale (tail?) as old as time, that. Good boy, Lou. Good boy.

Sean