Lou: a lynx point Siamese, a puff of smoke. Richard: dilute tuxedo, solid. They are intertwined, twin flames, yet totally disinterested in one another. It’s interesting.
Lou and Richard Albrecht live in a household with two dogs (Georgia, a Corgi, and Charlie, a wiry haired Dachshund mix). To seek to understand one you must know the family history of all: Georgia came first for Kelly Albrecht, their owner. She picked her up from a trailer in Wichita along with Georgia’s husband, Pete, a frankly abusive fellow Corgi, totally dismissive of Georgia and anything she wanted. Pete died a few years ago. That’s when Georgia came alive. She sees in color now (rhetorically speaking.)
t was just Kelly and Georgia for a long time. They didn’t miss having a man around. But times change, men come and go. Lou was adopted during an unserious dalliance with a narcissist, having a baby as a last ditch effort to save the marriage. It didn’t work, but Lou was to stay.
Lou is a beautiful woman, but deeply disturbed, probably having to do with spending her kittenhood under a dumpster. She is Norma Desmond around me, begging for love and pets and to be let outside. But when I don’t give her enough, she leaves the room. She has no interest in developing a real connection. I am just a faulty means to an end.
Richard, however, remains friendly. He hangs around me and the dogs. He takes pets but doesn’t ask for too much. He lounges by the windowsill and naps, allowing the dogs to take center stage. Richard was adopted from a friend who could no longer care for him, the last to join the family. He and Charlie maintain a loving partnership - they are, effectively, the most married of anyone in the house. Charlie came with Kelly’s current partner, and now they are forever linked in Charlie and Richard’s bond.
The dogs and Richard and Kelly and I go outside, sans the machinations of Lou. The boys wrassle and kiss while Georgia surveys the yard. The breeze rustles the citrus trees while Richard gallops across the garden. Lou is screaming from indoors. “Don’t mind her,” Kelly assures me. Richard paws at a fly. It’s a beautiful day.
