Lewis and his kinfolk were bred originally as shepherding dogs in the upper Pyrenees region, hence the breed name.  Farmers would leave these dogs up in the mountains with herds of goats or flocks of sheep to guard – by themselves!  I’ve since learned that the breed and a few others fall into a functional group known as Livestock Guarding Dogs, or LGDs for short (I’m not kidding.)  The distinction arises between shepherding and guarding.  Emphasis on the latter means the dog doesn’t care so much where the livestock are, so long as they stay within his purview.  The following video discusses all of this in detail.  It’s not the funny clip I usually include, but it does explain the mindset of this furry mountain of a dog we’ve brought into our midst:

And so, we turn now to Lewis.  He is a great herding and guard dog.  His only problem is that the only animals he has to herd and guard are…us.  That’s an admirable trait in a family dog.  He actually has different barks to tell you what great external threat lurks outside our doors.  A sharp, mid-volume, rapid-fire bark means that some minor being (like a stray beer can or plastic grocery bag) has wandered too close to the property for his taste.  A heartier, louder, and quite frankly scarier bark means something is not quite right.  In his case, it usually means the local herd of deer have started their nightly nocturnal tour of the neighborhood.  Then there is the five-alarm bark, characterized by a high-pitched, guttural howl that approximates the sound of a banshee (or what I guess a banshee would sound like).  It usually occurs if a strange car pulls up in the driveway.  At that point, the furry banshee pulls out all of the stops and starts howling, as if to say, “Folks, get the hell up and come out and see what I see!!”  And oddly, when you do just that, when you walk out, look, and pat him on the head (which is waist high). It acts like a reset button, and he stops the barking.

I have to say, all of that guarding behavior is somewhat comforting yet nerve wracking to a homeowner.  In a subdivision.  With an HOA.  With rules.  About dogs.  About dogs barking.  At night.

But Lewis’ herding traits on the other hand, I could forego.  I mean, I don’t even look like a sheep or a goat.  Maybe a cow, probably a jackass, but any event I have a pretty good sense of direction and don’t need to be sideswiped in one direction or the other.  When we come home from being out, Lewis insists on being the first one in the door.  I could be magnanimous and say he was going in first to protect us, but I’ll be honest and admit that Lewis is a hog about certain things.   He blocks us and goes into the house first, because he thinks he should!  And the refrigerator, ugh.  When that door opens, here he comes, prying the door open with that nose.  And heaven forbid that you actually take something out of the refrigerator and take it to the counter.  He proceeds to block your path and looks up with those pale brown eyes with the look that says, “I’ll take my share up front.”  Same thing goes for the morning hello, head rub, car ride, even a simple walk across the room.  Whatever your purpose, expect a body block by Mr. LGD.

It’s a baa-d habit he has.