Memories of Louie

I like to think I treated Louie well and he enjoyed his life. He was a rescue, after all, so any decent life I gave him was a plus. I loved him and I still miss him terribly. But there are two things about his life I regret.

First, I left him home alone a lot, since I worked most days. I think he got used to it -- so much so that getting him a little brother to keep him company didn't seem to impress him much. I wish I had had a dog walker come every day, but back then I didn't think I could afford it. Of course I could have.

Second, what happened before the adjacent photo.

When I was growing up, we had two different Golden Retrievers, Scotchy and (inevitably) Whiskey. Both lovely dogs. (Don't get me started on the fact that Scotchy had to live outside in the New England winters.) Whiskey loved to swim in our pool, which was always a hoot. It took some hamburger to lure her in at first, but after that she's go in for any old reason. She was even seen taking a very brief dip on very hot days, swimming a tight three-foot circle and stepping out, just to cool off!

So, of course, I wanted Louie to be a swimmer. Early on in our time together, I tried desperately to lure him into the Grandma's pool in Palm Desert. Cheese, hamburger, nothing worked. So with great compassion and concern, I threw him in the pool, thinking he'd see it wasn't so bad. He wouldn't come near me the rest of the day.

I gave up and left him alone. And on subsequent visits he didn't seem to fear the pool, rather he'd just ignore it. He'd even come over and lick my big bald head while I was lounging at the edge of the cool blue waters.

Well one day late in his life, when he'd started to have a little trouble walking, we were hanging around in the house in the desert, doing nothing special. We tended to leave the sliding glass door open so the dogs could wander in and out to the pool area, where there was also plenty of grass where one could do one's business.

Well in comes Louie, soaking wet! I was thunderstruck, since he could well have drowned out there and we never would have known. (He was not really the type of dog who would bark or whine when he needed something.) There was no reason to believe that he knew the pool had stairs and that he could find them and get out, so I could only imagine him pawing at the side of the pool endlessly until he drowned, while we sat idly by inside, oblivious. It still haunts me.

But he did find the stairs and get out, and you can see he was no worse for wear. It turned out that a poor little baby rabbit had drowned in the pool and was floating lifelessly in the middle of the pool. It looked almost exactly like one of Louie's most beloved furry toys, so he must have been desperate to get it, and fallen in while trying to reach it. We determined to be much more watchful.

Later in the day, Louie again waltzed in all wet. Hooray for our watchfulness!