ode_to_louie kerry louie–aka lou, louie-boy, piglet, sun dog, nebbish–is a sensitive little thing. this morning, even before i opened the curtains and saw the rain, i could see by the look on his face and his slinking walk that it was a gloomy day. the animal shelters on the west coast are crowded with chihuahuas and chihuahua mixes, sent from the southwest and mexico. that’s where louie came from, a pound puppy, the runt of the litter. i’m guessing he’s some kind of chihuahua-dachshund blend–bug eyes and apple-shaped head, long body and barrel chest. he’s mostly black with a chest tan chest and tan eyebrows that i call peanuts, and a black mask over his eyes. his belly is totally hairless and he has an underbite. sometimes his lip gets caught on one of his little white teeth. it gives him a stubborn kind of look. he curls up tight like a cinnamon bun when he’s cold (which is often) and sprawls out on his side when he finds a good patch of sun. he was totally glued to one of the shelter workers, unsure whether he wanted to come home with us, threw up in my lap on the car ride home and spent the whole day huddled in one corner of the kitchen. he was six months old at the time, still a young pup but old enough to be stuck in his trauma. but he became attached quickly; he craves affection, any kind of physical touch and closeness. i wasn’t used to such a delicate dog; i grew up with dalmatians adopted as wee babies, eager and curious and willingly vulnerable. moldable, happy-go-lucky puppies that become more discerning and aloof as they age. louie barely passed puppy kindergarten so the_autodidact trained him at home. i have no patience for training, but the auto_didact’s patience is endless. now louie can sit, shake, lie down, crawl, and roll over. he can stand on his hind legs for a good five seconds or so, and “waits” at the crosswalk until i say “okay.” in oregon we’d take him to a farm in the country when we went out of town. they kept him with the big dogs because he doesn’t realize he’s only 14 pounds and likes to play hard. sabrina, the farmer, let him “help” her with the goats, and nap on her stomach. now he goes to stay with the (former) houseguest if we take a trip and he sleeps for a whole day when we come back. for the five months that i worked overnights at the homeless shelter i was totally nocturnal, and we’d take walks at three or four in the morning, wandering through the deserted campus. we became familiar with the other zombies and had the town to ourselves. i am an (overly) enthusiastic television-watcher; i cackle and howl when something is funny, i groan when the sixers’ defense is sloppy, i warn the clueless teenager in the horror flick not to go into that dark cellar alone, you dumbass! louie responds to all of this. he climbs onto my lap and stares at me, eyes totally black, demanding peace and steadiness. when i cry he nestles up against my stomach and places a paw on my chest as if to say, “shh.” he comforts me as i emerge from a nightmare, breathing with my breath, and goes back to my feet to sleep once i’m calm. to say rescued dogs have a sense of gratitude is a cliche, but for good reason. louie is never aloof the way some of my other dogs have been, doesn’t take love for granted. in that sense, he is a good influence on me, a reminder that real love is not an obligation but a gift. 220306 ... e_o_i the dog commenter This is beautifully written and Louie sounds like an adorable dog. It sounds like he's lucky to have you in his life (and vice-versa). 220308 ... raze i keep coming back to that last paragraph. it's immense. 220309 ... kerry thanks, y'all. there's been so much animal/pet-related writing on blather lately! e_o_i, i was particularly inspired by your shiloh chronicles. 220309 what's it to you? who go blather from