AN ODE TO LOUIE--BELATED

Best boy ever. Lou-dog turned three years old yesterday. What a Christmas gift he was three years ago yesterday.

Months earlier, my roommate's pedigree Boxer, Roxy, had had her innocence taken by the mostly-pit bull from the other side of the fence. I remember how it was that morning when my roommate Pablo looked out the back door and said, "Oh shit!" He'd torn open the sliding glass back door and I could hear him shouting, "Get outta here! Go!" Hungover and tired, I'd risen wearily from the kitchen table, chewing my tasteless Raisin Bran, and had gone to the door to see what was going on.

Roxy and another dog were facing away from each other yet were still entwined, if you can dig it. I guess Roxy had liked what she'd been getting--her love fist had clamped down. Hard. Pablo'd ended up spraying the steaming junction with cold hose water and that eventually did the trick. Seperated, his duty done, the interloper had bolted across the backyard and had cleared the fence back to his home. His leap o'er the fence seemed, to me, to have had a satiated quality to it, like he was lighter than air.

Thus was Lou conceived, along with three brothers and four sisters.

In the three years since, I have been blessed with a companion, a clown, a constant friend.

I know that everyone feels that his or her dog is the bestest dog ever. I get that. It's called Love. But I have something to say, and, sure, it may be greeted with skepticism or outright derision, but I'll say it anyway, because I believe, in my heart of hearts [sob] that I'm as right as rain: LOU IS THE BEST DOG EVER. BAR NONE. NO DOG CAN EVEN COME CLOSE TO MY LOU-DOG.

There. If you have any feedback or any moping "No he's not"s, you are pleasantly directed to the comments section. I'll read over your drivel and dismiss it as madness, but, uh, go ahead and get your pointless fallacies off your chest. If it'll make you feel any better.

Happy happy birthday, Lou! I'm lucky to have you, dude!