Mr. Louis

Mr. Louis

“BLAH!” The old man bellowed.

“BOOM!” The sky replied.

“Oh, shit” Mr. Louis sighed.

“Blah! Blah blah BLAH” The Old man continued unabated, imploring his Old Bloodhound, Mr. Louis, to offer some response. Mr. Louis couldn’t because, for all of his 10 years he was never awfully inclined to learn The Old Man’s language. Nor, he his.

“BLAH! Louis!” The old man continued while holding his battered straw hat to his oddly pear shaped skull. The wind was picking up. What it was picking up he could not guess. Trees? Trash? Debris? It was getting colder by the minute and the Old Man needed answers.

The meager acre of avocados nestled in the belly of Who Knows Where in San Diego was beginning to sway in the wind that was harassing them with reckless abandon.

PLOP PLOP PLOPPITY PLOP

was echoing in the rear of the Old Man’s house which was built on a whim and a prayer in 1932. It was a big house for such a small, shrunken wisp of a man. The avocados were falling like so many books knocked over a shelf by accident.

The old man had kept the family's business going for years with his wife, the Woman. My goddess, but, didn't her eyes shine. They really did! Mr. Louis remembered how they sparkled in the sunlight when their gaze first met.

The Woman had shockingly crimson hair that she let fall freely about her face and reached below her shoulders as if it were making a point about being so extraordinary. Most times, though, she had it tied up in a tight, well informed bun that was affixed to the top of her noggin like a ginger bird's nest.

The Woman had found him. Mr. Louis had come to understand in their Blah Blah dialogue that The Woman could never have a litter. And this is why they found him.

He never knew his real Mom. He was taken away too soon, therefore, he could never really miss what he didn’t know. And Mr. Louis was fine with that because the Old Man and The Woman loved him beyond all else. The couple doted on their 4 legged son and the three of them would sometimes dance together among the avocado trees on cool summer nights.

The years passed and The Woman began to stop smiling. She wasn’t angry. She was just slowing down until one day she just stopped altogether taking her light and laughter with her across that rainbow staircase. Mr. Louis knew this was going to happen before it ever did. He could smell her impending exit in the air around her. Once she smelled like lilacs. And then a pungent scent of spoiled peaches hovered about her as she slowly, painfully wound down.

The Old Man wept and wept in her absence. He held Mr. Louis tighter than he ever had before. It was just the two of them now. All together alone.

The years passed and the avocados came and went. The Old Man knew that Mr. Luis had a knack for sniffing out things that needed to be found so he enlisted the fine, strong bloodhound in the volunteer rescue and recovery forces. The Old Man optimistically hoped that his fine and trusty hound might be able to rescue someone the way neither of them could rescue The Woman.

Unfortunately, Mr. Louis' ole factory only detected little broken corpses and lonely, ruined men who had met their maker in the most unpleasant way. Still, the Old Man thought in some way they were being of help to the hearts and souls of the people who hoped for a different outcome. They were always sadly disappointed with the results.

CRAAAAACK!

The sky screamed as a sheer, tight white bolt of lightning sliced through those deep, dark blue conglomeration of clouds that Mr. Louis knew instinctively were not a harbinger of well being.

“Fuck.” he muttered and began to sniff the ground below him as the sky wept hard, mean salty tears above him, on him and all about.

Mr. Louis always was the best one to turn to at misbegotten, curious times like these.

“Blah, blah…BLAH, Louis!” his cries for some kind of help were beginning to get lost in the gales and the sky had begun to carpet the sky with puffy, furious clouds.

Mr. Louis knew that the Old Man needed his direct attention, but, Mr. Louis was just as startled as his roommate. He tilted his eyes to the cacophony developing overhead while the skinny old man with his gray white sparse whiskers shuddered on his angular, weather worn face, his pale blue eyes as round as platters.

“I knew this was going to happen one day.” Mr. Louis conceded, subtly shaking his huge bloodhound face to flap about, encasing him in a momentary storm of deep wrinkled waves around his face.

Mr. Louis could smell trouble coming from a mile away. I’m so not kidding, he really could! Mr. Louis could smell trouble, food and dead bodies at the drop of a hat. He was never really into that last one, though. Finding dead bodies wasn’t fun. It was profoundly sad. He always felt guilty when he found the bodies. The humans would weep and wail when he revealed his discovery. This made Mr. Louis feel guilty. Almost like he was the perpetrator of the heinous deeds instead of being the one that answered their unanswerable questions of why, where and when.

“They always want to shoot the messenger.” he commented to the nearby tree as the clouds thickened and air began to smell far too sweet. It was almost like it had an agenda.

SNAP BOOM BANG!!!

The storm held strong and was unabated in its fury. Yet still, the Old Man held fast. Gripping the pole of his porch in this unprecedented melee of furious rain and electricity.

And then he just stopped. Frozen like a statue with his hand gripping his chest. His mouth was captured in a silent scream that would never come.

Mr. Louis had seen this look before on the faces of the humans he had revealed to the horror of their loved ones.

Now Mr. Louis was a loved one as he raced against the onslaught of the storm to keep the Old Man, the best friend he had ever known, from becoming something he would have to find.

His giant bloodhound paws slipped in goo mud causing him to slip and slide as the rain reigned down on him angrily. The avocados dropped like gorgeous green bombs to his left and right, but. Mr. Louis would not be stopped and kept his deep, dark eyes on the Old Man even as he watched him slowly crumble into a withered heap on the broken down porch where the used to watch the sun rise and set together.

A friendship like this was rare and Mr. Louis knew it had just ended as he he saw the Old Man’s eyes close and could smell the life escape from the mouth that had once laughed and smiled. His hands that had once laid reassuring pats on his old hound dog head and belly were gnarled up to his chest now. The Old Man was gone.

Mr. Louis sat as his 4 legs had decided that it was time to stop now. The fury of the storm continued unrelenting as he leaned against an avocado tree. Tears running down his desperately brown and black face. The Old Man was gone.

And Mr. Louis howled. He howled so loudly and deeply that it summoned the lightning and thunder that clamored throughout the land. Loss like that would be the stuff of lore for years to come. Mr. Louis didn’t care. His Everything was gone. He was alone now.

CRACK! SNAP! BOOM!

The weather had decided his fate. A single bolt of bright blue lightning struck the tree that Mr. Louis had leant against in his despair. The avocados had been blown off and all that remained was the burned remnants of what might have been and Mr. Louis’ charred remains. Nothing more. Nothing less.

“Mr. Louis! I say, Mr. Louis! ” the Old Man beckoned.

The storm continued to roil and Mr. Louis shook his giant bloodhound face , replete with lots of snot being flung in every direction, and tried to get his countenance considered.

“What?” was all he could muster back to the Old Man.

“Lookee what I found for us!” The Old Man was standing! And he looked far better than well.

Mr. Louis could also understand him. No more ‘Blah Blah-ing.”

“What is it Old Man? What did you find?” Mr. Louis managed to get to his feet. All four paws firmly cemented despite the slick terrain.

“Well, Mr. Louis, it seems I’ve found a bridge in the middle of this muddle. Come here, boy!”

And without a second thought, Mr. Louis ran through that weather and joined his dear old friend neither one of them looking back as they ascended a rainbow staircase which would bring them away from the storm and into a place of belly rubs, head pats, sunny skies and wide smiles for as long as ever. And The Woman was there waiting for them with her arms open and a smile on her face that reflected their own. Most bloodhounds can’t smile. On this day, Mr. Louis could.