Not You, Huey Lewis!

San Anselmo, 2001. Larry is a retired doctor, now about 90. Given that his name is Larry, perhaps it’s to be expected that he named his dogs Moe and Curley.

But, sad to say, Moe and Curley had passed on, and when Larry got another dog, he named the new dog Huey Lewis. I don’t think Larry is a big rock fan, so I’m guessing he just liked the sound of the name.

Now, the dog, Huey Lewis, is crazy about Larry, and at the dog park, if Larry goes to the bath room, Huey Lewis jitters at the gate on tiptoes, whining, till Larry returns. “Ah, be quiet!” grouses Larry, “Ya big baby!” Because, frankly, Larry’s sometimes kind of grouchy.

Larry is sitting on the bench, chatting with the dogwalker. Huey Lewis, idolizing Larry, flops his big head on Larry’s knee. “Aw, gimme a break!” growls Larry. Huey Lewis loves it. Larry’s not picking on Huey Lewis; Larry’s grouchy with the humans, too, some days. I’m not sure they like it as much as Huey Lewis does.

Now, here’s the wierd part. Huey Lewis — the rock singer — also lives in this neighborhood. He has a small dog with a big name — Maximillian? Balthazar? — and, when he’s in town, sometimes he brings Max to the same dog park.

And so it happened that, one day in the Spring, Huey Lewis, the singer, is playing with his dog at the same time that Larry decides it’s time to leave. Huey Lewis, the dog, is gamboling with a Bernese out in the field. Larry gets up.

“Huey Lewis!”

Huey Lewis, the singer, looks up. Larry’s looking in a different direction, now waving.

“Huey Lewis, dammit!” he yells. “Come ON!”

Huey Lewis, the singer, makes a gesture of puzzlement. Larry sees it, scowls. Larry gives an irritated ‘go-away’ wave.

“Not you!” he growls at the singer, and turns to go. “Huey Lewis!“