Lewis’ story starts as the stories of most “new” dogs start, with the memories of the four-legged companions that preceded him.  Maggie, Lady, Cassie, Snickers, Georgie, Stretch, Ariel, Bo, and finally Scout, whose passing prompted us to look once again for that missing family member – a dog.

Most of our dogs in recent history have been rescue dogs.  Dogs who through no fault of their own, other than being born, have been cast aside and abandoned with little hope for survival much less a happy life.  Rescue dogs are the lucky ones who get a second chance at life.  Second chances almost seem American in a sense, in this case, the unwashed masses of the canine world.

Without our humble and couch-potato Scout, we started to roam the local rescue websites for available dogs.  And there he was, this snow-white Pyrenees mix with a St. Bernard face, staring into the camera.  It sounds hokey, but I could feel this was THE dog for us.  As it turns out we not only saved this dog from the cruel, harsh world, we also saved the world from this dog!

I admit he was regal looking, A 60-pound white puppy with a black and brown face, and a broken tail that stood up and wagged like a cheerleader’s pompom, making way for his majesty.  The rescue informed us that his early life was anything but royal.  He was one of 40 dogs rescued from a man who barely fed them and took pot shots at them for sport.  As an aside, I’m still looking for this *&^%$.  Such a regal dog you might name Prince or some such, but the rescue informed us that he already had a name.  Lewis.  Say what?  Lewis?  Sounds more like a computer nerd with glasses.  But it didn’t matter (more on that later), he was a great looking dog.

We also discovered that he was not a mixed breed but a recognized breed called a St. Pyrenees.  Excitedly, we looked up the breed’s standards and found that the breed was employed in Europe to herd sheep in the mountains – by themselves!  The farmers would drop off the dogs in the mountains, and the dogs knew what to do to keep the sheep together and safe from predators.  Then we read that sentence from an owner – “St. Pyrenees are obedient dogs, so long as your command coincides with what they want to do in the first place.”   Say what?

And the hits just kept on coming.  The rescue also told us that Lewis was deaf.  Say what?  Yes, deaf, so the name Lewis didn’t really matter, because he wouldn’t hear you call him anyway.  As we found out later he pretty much answers to the name “Food,” or rather the concept thereof.  We must call him a lot, because at two-years old, he tips the scales at a hefty 140 pounds.

And hence we come to the reason for starting a blog on living with this brute of an animal.  This dog is not only large and in charge, but he lives life large and sweeps/drags us along with him.  A dog this big and with this much personality deserves his own blog!  We hope his exploits will amuse you, puzzle you, and ultimately cause you to appreciate your own canine companions just a little more.