Sadly, the Microbial Lab's Poet Laureate, Katherine, and her spouse, the poet Richard Garcia, lost their much loved first dog, Louis Armstrong Garcia y Williams, today after a brief illness. They are understandably quite sad, but Louie lives on in their own wonderful words (Jubilate Louie, Adam and Eve's Dog, and below).
What a wise and lucky dog. What wise and lucky poets.
Louie, M.D., Ph.D. by Richard Garcia
There was a dog who was a psychiatrist that wanted to analyze his master. He was aware of the ethical and professional problems analyzing his own master could create. Regardless, because his master seemed depressed, he decided to proceed. He would sit by his master's side and wait for him to speak. But all his master ever said to him was, "sit," "come," or "stay." The dog suspected that his master was fixated on these three words. Later, he wrote in his notebook, "I believe that the patient was forced to remain in a closet for long periods of time during his childhood, impairing the development of his language skills." The dog that was a psychiatrist waited for his master to lie on the couch and talk about his childhood. But his master never lay on the couch. It was as if, the dog thought, his master was afraid of falling asleep. So the dog would lie on the couch in comfortable-looking positions of ease. He would stretch out, close his eyes and sigh with pleasure. He would lie upside down with his paws in the air. He would make running movements with his legs to indicate he was having a pleasant, squirrel-chasing dream. He hoped that by following this example his master would lose his fear of sleep. But all his master did was stand there offering him a Milk-Bone. "Milk," the dog later wrote in his notebook, "Perhaps a reference to his mother's breasts." "Bone," he wrote,"Perhaps he is overcome with his fear of death." The dog that was a psychiatrist sat in his office late into the night. He was concerned about how little progress his master was making in therapy. He stared at his notes, raised one ear, cocked his head to one side--and chewed on his pencil.