Dogs of My Life – Louie

100_0435AUTHOR’S NOTE: This series is in honor of the latest addition to my canine history, Sydney, a Shetland Sheepdog or Sheltie pup that joined our family on October 17th, 2015. As I approached this date I thought it would be neat for me and hopefully you to see and read about all the dogs in my life that proceeded Sydney. Unfortunately this particular dog had me buffaloed due to the fact that the photos of Louie had eluded me until just now.

After I lost our Lab/Border Collie mix Jack, we took a little time, but the desire for a dog for me and pet for our young children remained strong. Our next pet was a rescue from the local dog pound. The dog pound is located in the same complex as the solid waste transfer station. With the need to make weekly trips to dispose of our trash, we had regular shopping trips for a new pet.

Louie was what the vet described as a Lemon beagle. I thought he closely resembled a light-colored Labrador retriever. But the mannerisms of a beagle began to show through early on. Where we live is 3 and one quarter acres basically surrounded by farm fields. Do you know what kind of wildlife you can experience in such a setting? Rabbits and Groundhogs. Lots of rabbits and groundhogs in fact. When you combine this imbalance of wildlife with the desire to raise a vegetable garden you are destined for conflict. Enter Louie and the imbalance quickly shifted.

During Louie’s tenure at Alpine Acres, the name I chose for our place, groundhogs and rabbits were put on notice. It was not unusual for Louie to dispatch of a groundhog and or rabbit twice in a single week. But Louie had a fatal flaw: he loved to roam the land around us. Including the highways where ultimately he met his doom.

If you are counting that means three of my dogs met their end due to a motor vehicle. Before we took the plunge to our next dog we had to rethink our pet containment strategy.

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To read the pother posts in this series you can click on the names here: Snoopy, Puff, Master , Sparky and Jack.

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About Joe Owens

Can you tell from my writing I love God? I hope so because that is what I want you to know most about me. I am also a writer who loves taking on fiction prompts and crafting a story. One day you will read my work in print. Until then enjoy it here! For free!
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8 Responses to Dogs of My Life – Louie

  1. Pingback: Dogs of My Life – Callie | Joe's Musings

  2. Your dog stories reminded me of my dogs as a child. They were nearly all run over on the Hume Highway near our farm. My first and last dog Spot finally met his end on the railway line.

  3. Al says:

    I am a cat person myself. I have always been wary of dogs. I wouldn’t say scared, but a little more than what is classed as wary. Strays in the street at nights, they would scare the baloobas out of me.

    I had someone stay with me for a while (I’ll call him … Bob) as he had been made homeless after a split with his wife, and I had known Bob for years. He had a dog with him, a border collie cross Jack Russell. The poor dog was terrified. The first people that had her, would lock her in a bathroom and beat her if she made a sound. Then she was rescued by “Bob” and his wife (Bobette). Apparently, whenever Bob went to work, Bobette would lock the dog in the bedroom and beat her if she made a sound. She went from one prison to another. When they were with us, Ellie (the dog – real name) would chew her back and we kept telling Bob to take her to the vets as she was shredding her back, but he refused. Ellie would never make a sound, and if my wife (at the time) ever raised her voice, Ellie would wet herself and run and hide under the desk, and sit there shaking, probably expecting a beating.

    When Bob finally found somewhere to live, he found out he couldn’t have pets, so we took Ellie on. The first thing we did was take her to the vets where she got the cream for her back.

    Within six months, Ellie was playing, barking, and running round with the kids. If we wanted to bath her, we had to do it in the garden as she would yelp and wet herself if we took her into the bathroom.

    We finally had to let her go three years after getting her. The damage from the beatings had destroyed her kidneys and she couldn’t walk. I still remember that final day. But I like to think that we gave her the best three years of her life. When she died, she died free and happy.

So you took time to read what I wrote and I appreciate it, but comments are even better!

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