Doug Clark: Internet fame amazes paraplegic dog’s best friend

Loois lives.

Loois the paraplegic pit bull, that is.

The dog, made popular in a 2007 Spokesman-Review story and online video, died in 2011. Yet Loois is now a worldwide cybersensation thanks to, well, a bit of Internet larceny.

Numbers tell an amazing story. The S-R’s YouTube video, created by my friend and ace photojournalist Dan Pelle, has racked up 1,726,068 plays since it debuted some eight years ago.

Impressive.

The original video, however, was pirated two months ago and placed on a Turkish Facebook site. The original dialogue and all Spokesman references were stripped away.

But as a testimony to the powerful images, this version of Loois, now backed by a semi-cheesy piano soundtrack, has accumulated 40,169,569 plays.

At least those were the numbers when I last took a look. They’re likely to have grown some since then.

Look at the purloined copy at: www.facebook.com/video.php?v=1165428446816028.

Or enjoy the S-R’s original uncut work at: www.spokesman.com/video/2007/mar/30/Paraplegic-dog.

Either way, each version is deeply moving and here’s why.

Loois is only half of this tale.

The other half is the utter devotion and selfless love that owner Craig Mosher showers upon his afflicted pet.

Watch as Mosher scratches Loois’ tummy, feeds him treats, lifts him to the couch and walks the impaired dog with his back legs supported by a special harness that Mosher hoists in one hand.

The video ends with Loois giving his master an affectionate, slobbery kiss.

“You are such a kind spirit,” comments one of the many, many viewers. “I am so glad Loois had the opportunity to be a part of your family …”

“What an amazing beautiful man to look after this special gorgeous dog with such care and love!” writes another. “May you be blessed in abundance!”

You’d have to be one cold stone to not be moved by the story of Mosher and Loois. On Monday, I drove to Mosher’s Suncrest home in south Stevens County to meet the 67-year-old Internet star face to face.

At first glance, Mosher didn’t strike me as the same fawning animal lover I’d seen in the video.

Tougher than a pair of old hobnail boots. That’s the thought that came to my mind.

Divorced. Ex-cop. Vietnam vet. Cigarette smoker. Gravel-voiced. Opinionated. Harley rider.

Mosher’s immaculate oversized garage is adorned with flags and ball caps and signs that speak to his rough “don’t mess with me,” Second Amendment-loving image.

Then Mosher blew it all when I asked him about Loois.

His eyes welled up. The teardrops started to fall.

“Loois is gone but his spirit is still here,” the choked-up man said.

Caring for Loois came at an incredible personal cost.

Four times a day, Mosher had to rid Loois of feces and urine through careful manipulation and massage.

He exercised him regularly with long neighborhood walks. He took Loois to more doctor visits than most humans ever get.

Every need. Mosher was there.

“I was restricted for 7-7 ½ years,” he agreed. “But it doesn’t bother me at all. I’d look you in the eyes and tell you that if I had to, I’d do it all over again.

“He was something else.”

So are you, Mosher.

We walked into his spacious and immaculate living room, adorned with military and Native American keepsakes.

Mosher pointed to the mantel. Photos of Loois are set up next to a walnut box that contains the dog’s ashes. He’s in good company. Also on the mantel are the ashes of Willie the goat and Bart the chocolate Lab.

Mosher and his then-wife, Maria, adopted Loois in California in 2000. Suffering and near death, the animal was dumped outside a veterinary clinic by a member of a dog-fighting operation.

“People who do that need to be shot, as far as I’m concerned,” Mosher observes.

Moving to Suncrest after Mosher retired, Loois enjoyed good health until 2004. The dog was accidentally paralyzed during surgery to repair a defect in his spine.

And the adventure began.

Mosher took me into a side bedroom. Loois’ room. Still set up the same as it was.

Only the Sealy Posturepedic mattress Loois slept on is gone.

“Everybody knows it as Loois’ room,” he said, picking up the blue “Walkabout” harness that his best friend wore in the video.

Mosher, wearing a veteran’s ball cap and a black Harley-Davidson hoodie, is at a loss for words when the subject of his Internet fame comes up.

In recent months, he’s received Facebook correspondence from dozens of countries like Germany, Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Australia, the Philippines …

“They all want to talk about Loois,” he said. “I’m amazed. I just don’t know what to say. It’s overwhelming.”

It is a good deal more than ironic that the Internet has made famous a guy who doesn’t know what Skype is.

But like a lot of ex-cops, Mosher is a total hoot when talking about his life on the job. In the Monterey area, for example, he said he once stopped famed singer-songwriter Paul Anka for speeding.

“You’re Paul Anka and the chances of you getting a ticket are zero to none,” Mosher said he told the polite star.

The end for Loois came unexpectedly on March 18, 2011.

Mosher heard his pal yelp in pain and off to the vet they went. A few hours later, Mosher got the call. Loois was suffering from an acute spinal deterioration that would soon leave him completely paralyzed.

There was only one kindness left for the master to do.

The doctor, he said, “turned the switch and I held him in my arms and that was it. He even licked my face right before …”

Mosher’s voice trails off. More tears.

“They’re just trying to make it in life,” said Mosher, who had a tattoo of Loois inked onto the upper-left section of his chest.

“You don’t get a dog to say you have a dog. You get a dog to be part of your family.”