King Louis

by Nicola
(South Australia)

'Your dog's been on my lawn again!' George looked thunderous.

"My little Louis? He would never do such a thing! He's my cute little Louis-kins aren't you?" she turned her attention to the poodle. As usual he was sitting on his blue velvet cushion with his customary regal air.

"Your precious little Louis-kins sneaks out every morning!"

"My little baby does no such thing! I carry him out to do his business after his morning tea."

"I see the little bugger sliding under the fence every morning, Joan. That excuse for a dog is becoming a real nuisance."

"Nonsense. He doesn't go anywhere unless I carry him on his little cushy-wushy." She tickled the dog under the chin, "Do you my little popsicle?" Louis looked at her with haughty disdain.

"If I catch him on my lawn again, Joan we'll be having roast Louis-kins on the barbie!" with that George stormed off.

He had no intention of cooking the dog, but he was determined to catch it to prove a point. He'd have a chat with the blokes at the bowls club later. They were sure to have an answer.

Meanwhile, Joan was worried. What if the nasty man next door kidnapped her Louis? She decided to send him a way for a few days. She rather needed a holiday herself to get over the shock of her encounter. She picked up the phone.

"Oh hello Brenda, Joan here. I don't suppose you could look after King Louis for a few days could you? That nasty man next door is accusing him of terrible things again. He actually threatened to cook my little Louis!" she beamed, "Oh you can? That's marvellous. I will bring him straight over."

Straight over for Joan, was a ritual. First Louis needed his daily bath. He didn't particularly enjoy his baths, so she needed to entice him with a few expensive chocolates.

Freshly puffed, with a blue bow in his hair, he climbed back onto his cushion. Joan applied fresh band aids to her morning bite marks, straightened the gold tassels on his cushion, gave him another chocolate and carried him to the car.

Brenda sniggered as Joan pulled up her driveway in the Mercedes, and carried Louis before her on his cushion. She didn't mind looking after Louis, and she knew he enjoyed his little holidays with her.

As soon as Joan had reversed out of the driveway, Louis was off his cushion in a flash. He tore through the lounge room, raced around the legs of the dining table and headed to the backdoor. He lowered his head, and raised his front paw, trying to remove his bow. Brenda chuckled.

"You want to go and play with the other dogs now your Majesty?" Louis panted and wagged his tail. Soon he was tearing around the garden with her four dogs, rolling in the mud and digging up her veggies.

For the next four days, Louis had a great time. He didn't have his daily bath, he didn't get any chocolates and he slept in the shed with the other dogs. Not once did he go near his cushion. On his last morning, Brenda called him.

"Hey Louis. Your mum's coming back today. You better come and have a bath." Louis looked at her, but he knew the drill and trotted into the scullery for his bath. He didn't bite her once as she blow dried him, in fact he gave her face a quick lick as she applied his bow. As soon as he heard Joan's car, he leapt straight back onto his cushion.

Joan rushed in wringing her hands, and proceeded to inspect him thoroughly. "Have you been a good boy Louis-kins? Has Aunty Brenda been nice to you? Oh dear! You have missed your mummy. You poor thing, you must have been fretting so much. Look at you, I'm sure you have lost weight." Louis ignored her and stared at a spot on the ceiling. "I better get you home and give you some chocolates."

The next morning there was a knock at the door. George stood there again. Joan still had her rollers in.

"Your dog's on my lawn again." George grinned.

"He can't be. Don't be ridiculous George, he's on his cushion." Joan turned. The cushion was empty.
"Come and see for yourself Joan." She rushed out of the front door and peered over her fence.

"He can't be! He can't be doing that! He's a pedigree stud dog! He's … that’s … where did you get that mongrel? He's … servicing it!"

George chuckled, "Old Louis here has serviced half the dogs in the neighbourhood Joan. Haven't you noticed how many 'mongrels' we have around here?" George caught her as she went into a faint.

A little later she called Brenda again, "Brenda. I need another holiday. A long one. And … well it's my Louis. He's been corrupted. He … has fathered several mongrels. His reputation is ruined. Perhaps you would be good enough to keep him?"