Mr. Rilch and I were at the Salvation Army yesterday, and we saw a koala wearing a Los Angeles Zoo t-shirt. Odd, we thought, and struck up a conversation. Turns out he was visting some mates of his at the LA Zoo, and had planned to leave last Tuesday. Of course, he got stranded at LAX, and was relocated to the Salvation Army. So we paid his outstanding debts ($1.50) and took him home. He’s fitting right in, pounding Foster’s with Tony, the Frat Boy doll, and making eyes at Babs, from Chicken Run.
You may wonder why he’s not named Bruce. Or Hugh, after my favorite Aussie.
Louis, my dear friend who died the summer after 6th grade, and who I believe I’ve referenced here a time or two, started out as my grade-1 crush. At that time, my mom gave me a koala pin. I said, “I know what I want to name it!” My mom stormed (stormed, mind you,) “No! You can’t name everything in the world Louis!” IIRC, I hadn’t theretofore named anything after him, but I was cowed, and accepted her suggestion to name it Kim. So now I have a koala named Louis.
He brought a smile to my face in the midst of tragedy, much as the real Louis did, when he was able, and much as I needed one back when I thought his loss was the greatest tragedy.