I used to call him the Beast from the Pit. I'm sorry for doing so. Not that I'm necessarily conceding it was a false statement. Louie was, it can plausibly be argued, in league with the Evil One. I could mention the occasion of the cooked chicken. All day long I looked forward to tucking into this for my tea, only to spy Louie lolloping across the yard with a guilty demeanour and clutching the chicken in his maw. Or the day I was to catch a bus to fly to Sweden, and I had lavished particular care on preparing sandwiches for the journey. It was at the bus stop I noticed them missing, and on my return that I discovered the wrapper in the special place behind the hedge which Louie designated for enjoying the proceeds of crime. Still and all I'm sorry for calling him that bad thing. Louie endured many a cross word from me but I never had a cross word from him. Mighty dog, rest in peace.
Beautiful Pete. He's always been part of Glenduff for us and it will be a little odd without him bounding up when we arrive, almost knocking us over with his exuberance. To know him was to love him (mischief and all!) and we all did.
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