Probably few people still alive remember the comic movies in the early part of the last century starring a jalopy full of bumbling badge wearers called the Keystone Cops.  Lewis could have played the group’s mascot…not that Lewis mimics their antics, but with the greatest of ease, he has the ability to turn the rest of us, specifically his owners (HA!  not really an accurate concept) into the most foolish looking, befuddled humans in his orbit.

Lewis recently played a starring role (gee, something different) as a keystone canine.  We were headed to some friends’ lake house for the weekend, which meant Lewis was headed to “daycare.”   We’re just not comfortable leaving him with the keys to his kingdom yet.  After all, his paws are much too large to operate the remote control for the television.

Make no mistake, this dog is smart, too smart for my own good.  We loaded his majesty into the car like we usually do, via a large ramp much like livestock use, and off to the vet we went.  When we pulled into the parking lot, you could feel the tension in the back of the car.  Lewis had decided that he was comfortable where he was and NOT getting out of the car.  Thus arose our first dilemma – how to get a mountain-sized dog out of the car who wanted nothing to do with any such plan.

The first approach, pulling hard on the collar, might as well have been a string of yarn.  Second approach, the push/pull maneuver, where one of us climbs up in the car to push his big butt while one of us pulls and PLEADS with Lewis to PLEASE get out of the car.  Nah.

Third approach, the old stand-by, food!  We always keep Lewis’ favorite treats close at hand for emergency situations.   This was one.  Nah.  WHAT!!  At this point, we realize we are in serious trouble.  When he turns down food, we are approaching DEFCON 1.  Finally, with both of us standing face to face with Lewis, we ask him once again to hop out of the car.   Okay, sure.  Sheesh.

Thus arose our second dilemma – how to get a mountain-sized dog who gets out of the car and proceeds to flop down on the ground to get up and walk into the vet’s office.  First approach, repeating the previous three approaches that were as effective as they were the first time around.

And then it happened, we turned into Keystone Cops, while Lewis chuckled to himself (I swear I saw him grin.)  As he lay on the ground, I straddled the brute with his leash attached to him…and me!  At that moment he stood up, reversed field, and walked back through my legs, leaving me with the leash attached to my wrist, wrapped around my leg, and my back to Lewis who was pulling my arm back through my legs.  The only thing absent was the old jalopy and the Silver Screen.  Au contraire, we had the next best thing – a major highway, six lanes of front-row seats to the Keystone buffoons.  At that point, one of the staffers came out, and Lewis trotted in behind her.  He loves the staff at the vet, and they love him.  But us, us he mocks.

But I know he loves us, too.  Or maybe it’s the food.  Nah, he loves us, is loyal to us, and always wants to stay where we are.

I just wish he would stop grinning so much.