Louie, Louie

Louie the dog is cracking me up lately. He's decided to become Sam's long lost brother (from a different mother). Notice how he's holding the paper for Sam's coloring page*? And how fascinated he is by the whole process? I see you're using the red crayon, Sam. Good choice. I might have gone with magenta but clearly you know your way around a coloring page. This is how he is all day long: interested and involved. I unload the dishwasher several times a day but each time, it's the most fascinating thing in the world to Louie.

Wow! Dishes go in there, huh?

And then where do they....oh....in the cupboard. I get it.

Of course, he wasn't such a fan when his collar got caught somehow on the empty dishwasher rack and he pulled it out and across the kitchen floor, attached to his neck. Unexpected! The sky is falling! He's a little more wary of it now.

The other thing that never fails to make us laugh is his response to either (a) phone messages on our machine or (b) sirens. Oh, my. He howls and howls like a wolf on the prairie. I'm pretty sure he thinks the sirens are other dogs asking for his help and advice and support. Not sure what the answering machine is all about. Maybe he just misses me.

Oh, Louie. If only you didn't still steal things from the table. And jump up on shy little Chinese students. Then you'd be almost perfect.

*we had a lovely, lazy Sunday listening to conference talks at home, eating fresh picked apples and pumpkin bread, most of us remaining in pajamas all day. Sam (above) set up projects on the floor where Louie joined him.

He's a lover not a fighter

True story.

Yesterday morning I got up early, practically with the sun (why, oh why, can I not sleep in on vacation?? Never mind, it was beautiful outside). Greg got dressed to go on a bike ride and I settled down with my book in the front room (see previous post), Louie at my feet.

I watched Greg pedal away and got engrossed in my mystery novel. A few (15? 20?) minutes later Louie got up and wandered away toward the back of the house. Now and then I heard him sniffling and scuffling. At one point it sounded like he bumped into something (it happens a lot with his surfer dude haircut). I heard Greg's footsteps--way earlier than expected--so I got up, rounded the corner to the kitchen and called out "are you back already?" I saw a decidedly-not-Greg arm as someone turned around the corner to walk (scamper, run) away from me, Louie happily dancing at his heels, tickled to have a new friend.

Um.

Hello sir?

The guy, deer in the headlights and mortified, turned back at me (keep in mind, this is 6:30 a.m.) and stammered. "I'm so sorry...I'm the former caretaker of the cottage and I had to come get something out of the barn..."

Did I pepper him with questions?

For example, the barn isn't in here, is it?

Why didn't you knock first?

Why tiptoe around?

Did I threaten to call the police?

Did I refer to my karate skills or pick up a cleaver, ready to defend myself and my three sleeping children?

No, no, and no. Here's what I said, in the potentially dangerous situation I was in:

Oh, um, that's okay. I just thought you were my husband. He's out on...a...bike...ride.

Translation in criminalese: go right ahead and do whatever bad business you were up to, there's no one here to stop you! Happy to cooperate! Always thinking, that brain of mine. Safety first!

Anyway, he turned around lickety split, headed to the barn and left a few minutes later with his brother (license plate: my4sons).

I turned and looked at Louie sternly, my hands on my hips.

He looked up at me proudly, wagging his tail with a gentle smile on his muzzle. Translation in puppyese:

I did good, right? I welcomed him and licked him and followed him. I just love people. Treat? Sigh.

We're a couple of crime fighters, Louie and me. Please take away my McGruff neighborhood watch card. I'm a lousy watch dog, too.

p.s. I'm pretty sure they were legit. I'm checking with the owner just in case. Also, they really shouldn't just walk in the house. I know that much! (Or maybe he just needed to use the restroom?)

Puppy Mugshot

When we got Louie I had this unspoken little vision of dog ownership.  A cozy, fuzzy-around-the-edges tableau of a family sitting at the table with a dog curled up on the floor at their feet. Another scene of me working at the computer with the dog--yep--curled at my feet, gazing at me adoringly when I lean down to ruffle the fur on top of his head.  Lovely fall walks around the neighborhood with the faithful pup by my side, sun filtering through the leaves.  Can't you just hear the theme music?

For some reason (I blame the dream) I decided that Thanksgiving weekend would be the perfect time to take down the gates that kept Louie permanently in the kitchen and to start letting him roam the house at will.  (Greg agreed and said "maybe it will help the kids figure out to put their stuff away or Louie might get it" with a little gleam in his eye.) But guess what? Louie is not cooperating with the dream!  It's like he has his own fond little dream of house ownership that involves free range grazing!  Like he's one step closer to world domination.

Just now I heard him run upstairs so I got up and followed him.  By the time I made it to Maddy's freshly painted, newly decorated bedroom he had pooped.  Right there.  In the corner.  Louie!!!

We're a veritable sit-com.  It would be called Louie! (italics and exclamation mark essential).

Perhaps the worst moment of the weekend was Saturday evening.  He had been lying on the floor of the family room while we all read and lounged and played.  (Ahhhh.  The dream.)  Someone said "where's Louie?" Lauren went into the front room and came back with a frightened look on her face and a piece of metallic plastic in her hand.  

"Ummm....Dad?"

"Hmmm?" (G was reading.)

"Did you leave your blackberry in the front room?"

G glanced at the piece in her hand and leapt up.  "Where is he?!!"

(This was asked not in the way of "where is that little rascal, I need to find the rest of my blackberry" but more in the manner of "if I had a gun I would use it right now" or "anyone know of a good farm in the country who could use a good furball puppy?")

Yes, Louie had chomped on his new, work-purchased fancy blackberry.

It's operable but barely.  Maybe a couple of keys don't work anymore. 

It might be that the back battery panel is too mangled to work.

Things are not looking up for that daddy-doggy relationship.  

I didn't think it was the best time to remind him about his put-your-stuff-away-or-Louie-will-get-it doctrine.  I'm perceptive like that.

In the interest of full disclosure, we did have lots of great times with him this weekend.  He loves to be where we are and plop down at our feet, watching us with devotion and (I'm interpreting here) love.  He comes right when you call him--I don't get that kind of response from anybody. He and Sam have great times playing fetch or soccer or keep away.  He's a great cuddler. His puppy ways are diminishing and he really can be trusted most of the time.  In a household of equal adult:teenage ratio (soon to be outnumbered in a few years) it's refreshing to come home to Louie's enthusiasm and pure joy at seeing me.

But having a puppy really is like having a toddler all over again.  Well, a toddler with stellar jaw strength (seriously, how did he mangle that blackberry so quickly?).  A toddler you can (thankfully) put in a crate when you need to. 

Columbus, we really like your day

After getting all of our have-to-do list done this morning (statistics for me, homework for the girls, flopping around and bored moaning for Sam), we headed east for a chilly but lovely hour at Wingaersheek beach just outside of Gloucester (by the way {helpful Boston insider info}: pronounced glaw-ster, not glou-cest-er).

We figured it was the least we could do on Columbus Day; since he traveled all that way to our shores we could do the same. Yes, I got carried away with photos. (In fact, we also made a movie with MORE photos if these 21 photos aren't enough...)

So that was the best part of the weekend (even though we missed Greg, who had to work today) along with a nice day out with Greg on Friday when the kids were at school.

  

The worst part? Coming home from that Friday date and finding that Louie got out of his gate, got into the Halloween face paint and smeared it all over our sofas and rug. And then had the nerve to have two days of diarrhea.  Grrrr.

So I got a new camera.

I ~love~ it~ so~ much 

{think happy sobbing, like Holly Hunter in Raising Arizona*}.

I'm still figuring it out, mind you.

Like how do you get all three people in a photo to behave at one time?

My back-to-school self portrait

He eated my cookie. And probably yours.

His cuteness saves him on a daily basis.

So now that I have a serious big girl camera, I have a whole new list of must-haves!  Lenses, software, things-I-haven't-figured-out-what-they-are-yet.  What are your favorite hints or gadgets for making photos with zing?  (Not a rhetorical question.  I really want to know.)

*if you don't know what I'm talking about (or just if you want a good laugh today), you must see this clip from Raising Arizona (around 8:05-8:20 is the specific moment but it's all hilarious).