Editor’s Note: Ode to a Dingo

Let me tell you a story about a dingo named Louie. He wasn’t really a dingo — my friend just called him that. He was actually a Chihuahua/dachshund/corgi rescue who remained a wildling until the end. You see, Louie was used to living on the streets, and he brought those survival skills to our comfy, cozy house, where he never lacked food, toys, walks, a soft bed and treats, of course. Still, he was on the constant lookout for food. Any food — his own, ours, even food in the garbage.

Louie’s best skill was strategizing and navigating to food. That small but mighty dog was able — in a flash — to jump onto the kitchen table within seconds after anyone walked away to devour whatever food they left. He’d hop on the chair, and then the table, and before you knew it, he’d scarf down your dinner.

It took a while for me to learn because apparently you can’t teach old humans new tricks either and I walked away from too many plates of food and cups of coffee (yes, he drank the coffee too). It got to the point where I’d carry my plate with me to answer the door. One time right after we adopted him, I left a boxed king cake on the table and went off. You know where his is going… I came back to find half of the king cake gone and a fat, happy dog splayed out in his bed.

Louie looked a little like a fox (fitting) with his red coat, long-ish body and short-ish legs. He absolutely had dingo-esque ears that stood upright most of the time, unless he knew he was in trouble and wanted to look extra cute, in which case, he’d let them flop down adorably. Yes, it always worked — he was instantly forgiven. In fact, he was rarely in trouble because I knew this survival instinct was ingrained and he couldn’t help it.

We just announced the winner of the cutest pet contest and there were some serious cuties in the running. But I bet none of them could outfox Louie’s antics.