Lewis and Kronos

Do you know Lewis?

Of Lewis and Kronos?

Only now its just Lewis - or Lewis and whatever the new dog’s name is. You’d know if you knew him. He’s a sort of strange guy. The kind of guys I like for friends. He rides a big mountain bike around in a bright neon vest with a neon helmet and with a big beautiful husky on a leash running not jogging alongside. Well, that was Kronos and I suppose he’s died because now Lewis is back around but now he has an orangey-lab looking dog - maybe a golden.

I don’t know, anyway I asked if you knew him because hes a neat guy - the most rememberable feature is his inquisitiveness. He will ask you a question and you can just tell that he absolutely needs to hear and understand your answer. And its not like hes asking a deep question always, or maybe, ever. I’d stopped to let Otto and Kronos meet a few times and we had exchanged the usuals - “This is Otto - he’s friendly” “oh, Hey Kronos” “Ok, C’mon Otto” “ hey Kronos, right?” “I’m Chris by the way” “Right on Lewis, nice to meet you”.

I tend to do this ritual about 3 times on repeat before I’ll remember a human’s name. I usually have the dog’s name the first time around. With Lewis, after a while, on a Monday he’d be asking me about pellet stoves and how my wife Emily was doing and when are we going to the dog park again and how Kronos was having a hard time making friends there because he was being discriminated against. In this he meant explicitly that Kronos was being discriminated against because of his natural huskiness and temperment, and not at all himself being discriminated against, despite having a few clear disabilities and for being dark in a white heavy community - to Thursday when I say “Hey Lewis, Hey Kronos” to his reply “I don’t remember you. What is your name?” Lewis is a young man, he is not elderly. But always, every time, every question - his interest in your answer was paramount.

He would stare at you while you answered. About a year and a half ago, Lewis and I had rebuilt a small conversational relationship when we crossed paths with our dogs. This particular day he was telling me that Kronos was gettting worse and the medications were making him lethargic and he wouldn’t run next to the bike anymore ad I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t tell if he needed or was even looking for money for surgery for Kronos, I do recall him tellilng me an expensive surgery was an option. He was saying how expensive “it” all was getting and how he didn’t know what to do. Then he was gone.

I had come to know where in town he lived, because it was in my neighborhood - end of my street really…the house slowly degraded, it became clear that Lewis had been evicted - saw the moving trucks, clean and flip crew, new siding…

Yesterday I was driving past Lewis’ old house and there, like a ghost in time, was Lewis - out front decked in neon stopped in front with this new Not Kronos.

I’m of two minds. Part of me was overjoyed to see the resiliency of the human spirit. A broken man loses his friend and companion. Loses his home. Loses memories on or off medications and yet despite it all here he is!
Like Springtime, but with new flowers! A new puppy!

But then, at what cost? How could it be worth the pain? He’s Sisyphus building memories and relationships and homes and they are sandcastles one and all at low tide.

Why do I care at all, I ask myself. I meet lots of people…but that’s exactly why. Lewis is a neat guy to know. He makes me think about myself.