Lulu Belle was the third to join our pack. For a couple of days, Melissa had seen what she thought was a coyote lurking around our rural property, so when – arriving home one rainy moonless night around midnight – she saw a shadow by the front door, she assumed it was a wild thing.
Troy was dispatched to investigate, and on closer inspection, the “coyote” turned out to be a leggy, damp, spotted dog he brought inside out of the rain. The plan was for the homeless pup to spend the night on a bed by the door and for us to search for her owners the following day. Thirty minutes after her arrival, she was snuggled up with the other dogs in our bed, belly full and sound asleep.
The next morning, Melissa printed out “Found” posters with the dog’s photo and took the skinny, wormy girl to the vet to check for a tattoo or microchip. Our vet found no identifiers and said the dog was young – around 6 months – and had some blue heeler in her, as well as some unnamed genetic contribution that gave her a long, lush banded tail not unlike a raccoon’s. No one ever came forward to claim our girl, despite our intense efforts, and after one of Melissa’s yoga students said that “Lulu Belle” would be a great name for the foundling, she was home to stay.
A Bit On The Stubborn Side
In her youth Lulu Belle was hard-headed, refused to obey basic commands, and was a challenge to potty train. She left a big mound right by the door daily until she was two and on one memorable road trip, entertained other drivers by taking a protracted poo in the back of the SUV – hunched over and long striped tail straight out for several exits. From the beginning, Lulu Belle has been a “going” kind of girl who loves trucks, canoes, RVs and her own hiking, walking, and running paws.
She’s always watching out the window of the truck or poking her head forward between the front seats to get a better view. Even though she’s mostly deaf, she watches to see who is near the front door, and if she sees shoes going on feet, barks a big “woof” and jumps her front paws in the air.
Once a great long distance runner, she is now a walker, but she still speeds up when she sees someone running by, as if remembering this is what she once loved to do. At 15, her runs are confined to a short daily trot up the hill near our home and to the racing of her paws as she dreams the sleep of old dogs who still remember what it was to be young.
