Our dog Louis passed away on April 17th. He was thirteen. When he was a puppy, our kids were in elementary school.
“Hi, Mom,” one said. “We’re home.” That was our cue to release him from around the corner to meet them for the first time. And that was the beginning of Louis doing almost everything with us.
Trips to the grocery store. Riding shotgun to pick up burgers, pawing at me to share a fry. Walking the beaches and going on hikes. Long car rides to New Hampshire in the back with the kids watching them unwrap their sandwiches. And kayaking down the Saco River, which he preferred to swim.
When we swam off the boat in Newport, he jumped right in after us because he thought we were drowning. He’d splash at our shoulders as we sank with laughter. He’d sit on the bow, growling at nearby moorings. His eyesight was excellent (more on that in a minute).
We realized we needed more discipline. We found a trainer with German Shepherds and rescue dogs. It was basic training for Louis and for us. The video updates looked like he was part of the pack.
Even as a puppy, he was punching above his weight. Two Thanksgiving eves were spent at the New Hampshire vet getting him stitched up. Going off to the dog park made us tense until he came home wagging his tail—thankfully incident free—wiggling his way into us: “Who’s ready for a walk?” his bark would imply, never seeming to tire.
About his eyesight. When the TV was on, he would quietly pay attention, watching and waiting for dogs or horses to appear. Then, when they did, he’d fly out of nowhere, running at the TV, crashing into the piano bench. Imagine dinner and Downton Abbey begins.
Why do we put ourselves through this? Knowing they’ll be gone in the blink of an eye. Because we would do it all over again.
When Louis was sick, we watched In Restless Dreams: The Music of Paul Simon. In “The Boxer,” the cannon fire sound is the resonance of an empty elevator shaft, an emptiness we feel today. Louis fought to be with us until he couldn’t anymore. He was our good boy right to the end. We love and miss him so much.
