The above expression describes any number of homemade remedies to cure too much of a good thing.  And that’s exactly the situation with Lewis.  WAY too much of a good thing – way too much stubbornness for a dog that big, way too much “puppyness” for his size, and last but not least, WAY too much hair.  Reminds me of the old Blake Edwards’ movie, “Switch” (skip to 1:08 if you have the same patience level as I do):

“I can’t think with all this hair.”  Words to live by.  I should have expected as much.  I mean after all, his breed is known for not only surviving but thriving in the frigid night air of the Pyrenees Mountains.  Nowhere did the breed standard mention anything about guarding herds of camels in the Sahara….or the 90-degree heat of Alabama for that matter.  I don’t know if it has to do with the heat here or it’s just who or what Lewis is.  Regardless, because of his hirsutism, Lewis is always with us, even when he is not with us.  His hair is, as they say, ubiquitous.

Let me be frank.  Lewis sheds….a lot.  He sheds anywhere, everywhere, all the time.  Little remnants of Lewis float across the hardwood floors like tumbleweeds in a grade B western.  And it’s not just the hair.  Lewis thinks he is one of those agility trial dogs as he runs crazy in and out of the azaleas, picking up loose leaves, branches, and vines like a magnet.  I see no need here to expound further upon the effect of a 140-pound dog on a defenseless plant.

Following are the many places Lewis has been without ever having moved:

• My sandwich. Because Lewis’ middle name is food, anytime something to eat hits the counter, he magically appears, bringing his shedding cortege with him.  He looks like Pigpen and his dirt cloud from the Peanuts comic strip. (Side note:  If you have eaten dinner at our house, please disregard this paragraph.  It’s false.  It’s not true I tell you, It’s poetic license.)
• My computer keyboard. Thank God he doesn’t like to walk across the desktop like those cat videos.
• My dashboard. I drive a large SUV and carry around this large a** dog in the back with all of the seats folded down so he can wander around and wave to the people, okay bark at them.  But is it really too much to ask for Lewis II to stay in the back with Lewis I where it came from?
• My vacuum cleaner. This is the piece de resistance.  Because of the tumbleweeds, vacuuming is a daily, sometimes hourly task.  It’s a central vacuum system, which means several times a week, I have to go down to the garage and empty the canister, setting free what could easily pass for a small chihuahua. I’ve even thought about declaring my vacuum cleaner to be a 501c charitable organization for dog rescue.

And before you say it, his royal highness receives a brush out every morning.  He looks beautiful…for five minutes.  He then proceeds to his azalea slalom course.

It’s not his fault really.  What else can you expect from an animal that has no opposable thumbs?  And as the schmaltzy saying goes, he asks for so little and gives so much…HAIR!  Pfft with that saying.  He asks for food all the time and a dozen other things.  But it’s ok.  He’s Lewis after all.  And we’d do anything for him like all dog owners do.  It’s ok, you can admit it.