Rouses_January-February-2018_60

the Mardi Gras issue

—REIGNING— cats & dogs by Chris Rose

I’m just the guy who holds her leash. Fills her supper dish. Pays for her shots and grooming. And scratches her belly when the masses are at bay. Barkus, the original New Orleans Mardi Gras

I used to be famous. I coulda been somebody. I coulda been a contender. Instead, my dog stole the show. She always stole my thunder. Took away my spotlight. And anyone can tell you: She was, and still is, much prettier than me. The date is Feb. 2, 2007. The Barkus parade in New Orleans is getting ready to roll.Thousands of folks are gathered in Armstrong Park, and thousands more are lining the streets of the French Quarter. I’m thinking they’re here for me. But no. I’ve got the Pulitzer Prize. I’ve got the New York Times Best Seller. But nobody is paying attention to me . Nobody is making a fuss over me . Nobody is calling my name. Nobody is scratching my belly. And not a damn soul tells me I’m adorable. But everyone is making a fuss over my dog, Luna Biscuit. Everyone. She is the Queen.The Queen of the Mystic Krewe of Barkus 2007.

canine parade, was founded in 1992, where all great Carnival institutions are conceived: in a barroom. Born of a 12-pack and a clever idea, the krewe’s name is a play on the name of the famous New Orleans super-krewe, Bacchus. But instead of a bunch of masquerading rich folks tossing baubles and beads from floats to the crowds assembled in the streets below, Barkus is a gathering of costumed four-legged friends trundling through the streets of the French Quarter and generally making a spectacle of themselves. Some parades throw rubber dog poops to their crowds. Barkus delivers the real deal. The King of Barkus is traditionally a purebred, with papers and lineage and all that fancy dog show stuff. The Queen is always a mutt, a stray, a rescue dog. That’s my Luna Biscuit. It’s French for Moon Pie, sort of. Biscuit for short.

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MY ROUSES EVERYDAY JANUARY | FEBRUARY 2018