Loki

We drove out of the city to the breeder. We’d seen the photos of all the pups. They were sweet, but only one was ours. We loved him, anxiously awaiting the day we would hold him. The name had been chosen beforehand, and as we passed him between us little did we know how perfect the name would be.

Loki. Dog of mischief.

A golden-haired labradoodle, Loki made our family whole again, having lost Ollie the year prior. There are many adjectives that are applied to labradoodles – sweet, thick as a post yet smart, loving – and I am here to tell you that each and every one is true. His eyes are piercing, speaking volumes on what Loki is thinking and feeling at any given time. He lays his head on your lap, looking up to give your face a kiss and settling in to sleep. Loki doesn’t catch treats so much as he sees them bounce off his nose, only then to realize what it is as he frantically paws at wherever the treat landed to pick it up. Almost daily he catches sight of his tail and attacks it, on the off chance that it isn’t attached to him after all.

So, what makes Loki EmPAWyee of the Month?

I’ve been working from home for almost three years now, and he has been my coworker for the last year and a half. Loki’s contributions in that time have become invaluable to the environment here.

For starters, Loki is only too happy to let me know when someone is at the door. When someone is walking up to the door. When someone is on the sidewalk, either the one at the front of the house or across the street. When the branches on the tree move. When an errant plastic bag blows by. And not by using a gentle, half-hearted growl but a full, robust, deafening bark that let’s the whole neighbourhood know of the dangers in store for our home.

Secondly, Loki ensures that I am taking frequent breaks away from the computer, clearly in an effort to keep my eyesight and overall health intact. When he knows I need the break Loki comes up and rests his head on my lap, looking up to say, “hey, man – you look like you could use a break from that by opening the door for me so I can indulge myself outside.” Then there’s the times that Loki doesn’t come up to me, but rather sits by the door and looks at me. Just. Looks. I am mildly aware that he’s around, but after a few moments those searing eyes bear into my soul, forcing me to turn and open the door as he has willed it. Sometimes to use the “facilities”, sometimes to scout out the birds that have made a home nearby, and sometimes just to gaze through the deck boards to whatever may be underneath them (and as this is done somewhat regularly, it is a little disconcerting that there’s enough action under there that it warrants Loki checking it out).

Finally, Loki keeps the atmosphere light. The nature of my work is such that I often have to deal with… how to say politely… those that don’t understand how the product works (and I suspect don’t understand how to put pants on or how to breathe). This leads to a perpetual source of frustration, leading me to not only question my life’s decisions but to question what led two people into breeding that level of idiocy. That’s when Loki ups his game, coercing play time out of his Havanese sister Willow, nudging in for a stroke of his head or a belly rub, or simply by being a plain old goof, attacking that damned tail – his sworn arch-nemesis.

Could Loki be better? Possibly (paw-ssibly?), but unless he starts standing upright, grows opposable thumbs and can pour me a cup of coffee it isn’t likely I’ll ever find – or want – better.

Stay groovy and happy trails,

Lloyd