Bob named him and I think it fits just perfectly, and has a lyrical lilt, "Louie Lamb." Now I find myself singing "Louie Louie" to him and, of course, making up all the words I don't know.
Here he is as a week old baby, right after our friend and vet, Kent Thames and his wife Amy, showed us how to make a splint for his leg. Louie stayed most of that first week in the bottom of a Rubbermaid tub (when he wasn't cuddled in my arms).
One day, I walked out of the room and when I returned, I peeked in the tub and Louie wasn't there! "Baaaaaa" he said, and I looked down and he was standing right behind me! Time for a move! I found a nice large wire dog crate for him to stay in at night in the sun room, but most of the time he enjoys being outside with me. He follows me around everywhere, and is trying out all the clover and grass to see what tastes best. So far, he loves the fat little maple seeds and, of course, he still loves his bottle.
You might notice that he's sporting a BEAUTIFUL new purple splint. He's been wearing the black one for two weeks, which is 2/3 of his little life, so it was time for a re-wrap. What an adventure that was! Neither Bob nor I knew what we were doing, but we got it done in spite of Bob's panicked exclamations of woe. Sheesh....it's good that ONE of us could remain calm. Louie was a basket of trembling nerves...whether from all the fussing going on or maybe he just hated being held down, probably a combination of both. A bottle and cuddle in my arms got him calmed down, and then we went outside and he happily hopped around, as if he'd not just shared in one of the most traumatic experiences of my life. Thank you Bob. You probably made a wise decision to go into sales instead of medicine. :-)
Isn't he just adorable?