April 24, 2004
BELLA LOONA
Comedian and director Louis C.K.is writing about driving his dog Loona home from Venice, Calif., to upstate New York. It's a great little slice-o-life travelogue.
On stage, I like to say that I do it because my wife says that the dog doesn't like to fly. I don't think a dog even knows, when it's in an airplane, that it's flying. But I drive the dog without hesitation. Because it is far easier to drive all the way across the country than it is to have that conversation with my wife. That is what I like to say on stage because people then laugh. But the truth is that, last year, I finally put my foot down and said "there is no way I'm driving that dog across again. She has to fly." My wife sadly relented. So I looked into it. I called American Airlines and asked them to run down for me exactly what the dog goes through on an air journey...
First she has to be put in a crate (something my dog hates) and she has to sit alone in that crate in the Cargo hangar for about two hours before the flight. Then the flight is like six hours or whatever, then she's unloaded and taken across the Tarmac to another cargo hold where she sits for another hour or so before I can get her. So like nine hours of sitting in the crate. I just know my dog would hate that. I called American about three times and asked them to go over it with me again. Finally, I just didn't have the heart. I drove the dog again. So now I can't blame my wife anymore. But I can still say on stage that it's because of her, because people in the audience are just strangers and who needs to tell them the truth?
My favorite part is when he let the dog out of the truck so some bidness could be done and the dog went after a beaver in a field.
We stopped at a gas station/food mart/lunch counter and parked in the back. Then we walked up into the steep, muddy woods behind the building, foraging through some thorny bushes until it opened into a large field. Another field of long grass, this time very wet. As we started to cross the field, it started raining lightly, but we went on anyway. The field became more wild and weedy as we went on. There was a single roll of hay, about 8 feet tall, on the far end of the field. As I plodded slowly across the field, stepping high in a vain attempt to keep my feet dry, Loona the dog ran around me in wide circles.Posted by Jeff at April 24, 2004 12:22 PM | TrackBack
As we reached the end of the field, I noticed that she wasn't running anymore. She was standing stock still, shoulders hunched and head low with her tail curled behind her. I recognized this as being her hunting stance. But what was she hunting? I could only see empty, green field in front of her. Now, she's not the smartest dog in the world. I wouldn't put hunting nothing past her. But usually she figures out it's nothing after a few seconds. Here she was really dug in. As I got closer, I tried to follow her line of vision and I saw it. A beaver was standing in the grass, stock still, like it had been stuffed. It was trying not to move or breathe, hoping that Loona would forget it was there. As I got closer I could see that the poor beaver was frozen in a very awkward position. It was almost like a cartoon. He had seen the dog and started to turn away to run but the dog had clocked him so he was frozen in this left-leaning, twisted sort of "turning to go" position.
After about a minute of this stand-off, Loona started to approach the beaver very slowly, placing each paw carefully. The beaver continued his bluff, though, not moving. I could almost hear him whistling and going "Hmmm hmmm. Nothing here but us grass!"
In this shot you can actually see his right eye and you can kind of tell that he's looking away from Loona. The balls on that beaver, man. Loona got all the way up to him, nose to nose, before he broke into a run. She chased him through the field, around and around in figure eights, at one point getting a paw on his back! The balls on that beaver, man. Loona got all the way up to him, nose to nose, before he broke into a run. She chased him through the field, around and around in figure eights, at one point getting a paw on his back!
But he was too quick. He made it to the woods just in time. Loona pounced around the woods, sticking her nose here and there till, inevitably, she forgot what she was looking for and trotted away. She came up to me like "Hey, what's up?"
Yet again, we began a day believing that nothing would happen. That I would have nothing to tell about and nothing to show pictures of, and yet again I was wrong. Wild Kingdom right before my eyes. Although I think if Loona had to hunt to survive, she would last about a week, poor dog.
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