Oh What You Could Miss

When I first thought about doing sustainability posts two names came to mind; Auntie Blanche in the human category and Frank in the dog category. I have trouble understanding people who don't want and enjoy pets. One of the many reasons is that if you don't love pets you're going to miss out on meeting a dog like Frank and that is a tragedy.

Frankie was a mix; surely some newf in there, probably some lab and maybe some other sort of retriever. He was owned by a man who, I believe, went to jail leaving the dog in the apartment he shared with his girlfriend. The girlfriend didn't like him so she turned him out of the house. Frank stayed there, next to the door of the building, waiting while the people he cared for wandered in and out completely ignoring him. Neighbors fed him for six months before they took him to a groomer then took him in while they searched for a more permanent place for him to stay.

At that point he went to live with Carmencita and Carsick where he showed his true colors. He was simply faithful, kind and true. When someone he loved (especially Carsick) came back after an absence he gave a crazy rooing noise that sounded exactly like Chewbacca. Late in life, when he struggled to rise on his own, there was someone creepy hanging out around their house. Frank stationed himself asleep by the front door, which was see-through. When the person got too close Frank raised his big head into sight and gave a couple of his deep and rich but rare barks.

I was lucky that Frank loved me as much as I loved him. We spent a lot of time together and sometimes if I'd been gone too long I'd even merit the wookie noise, which was pretty much his highest compliment. One night I was invited over to watch some basketball playoff action. The family was upstairs in the parlor so I entered on the lower level and went up. Frank was asleep. I sat down and we watched and talked for about ten minutes before Frank woke up. The next words I spoke made him bark his intruder alert unceasingly while he worked to gain his feet. No amount of verbal reassurance would soothe him as he stalked toward me on unsteady, old man legs. About halfway across the room he must have recognized my voice or scent and realized it was me. Have you ever seen an embarrassed dog? It's hilarious! He shuffled toward me, abashed, and gave me a strong newfie leaning hug. Poor dog, we could not stop laughing.

A combination of arthritis, fused spinal discs and degenerative nerve disease lowered Frankie's quality of life in later days. He was a trooper, though, and, like Emily, was always willing to do whatever kept him closest to his people even when it hurt. One day I was crossing a relatively busy street and I misjudged the traffic in relation to Frank's slowed gait and was urging him across with leash and voice, afraid that he might get hit. A woman was crossing the sidewalk toward which we were headed and she was staring at us. As we got close she pointed a slightly panicked finger and said, "Uh...his collar, his collar!" As he gained the curb I looked to see that, in my excitement, I'd pulled his well worn leather collar up over one ear. I thanked the woman, adjusted the collar then apologized to Frankie. While I did I was thinking, "Lady, if this dog suddenly rose up, yanked off his collar and chased you down the boulevard I'd give him a whole sleeve of Lorna Doones and the world's longest tummy rub I'd be so happy he was better." But he didn't and we continued on our way.

In the end Frank died on April 13, 2001. I went over to dye some Easter eggs on the 12th and Frank stayed on the floor in the office all night. Near the end of the evening Carsick told me that the previous day they'd made the decision that Frank's bad days were nearly constant so they'd made an appointment for the 13th for the visiting vet to give him a compassionate end. That morning Frank had woken up in the kitchen, not been interested in eating, walked into the office favoring one side in a way that indicated a probable stroke, then laid down on the floor and he hadn't moved since. I feel as though he let them know, in as clear terms as he could, that their decision was the right one at the right time. A kind dog is what I'm saying, so kind.

I've been reading a lot about atheism lately. It's certainly got logic on its side and I want to be able to commit myself to it but little things still bother me about it. One of those things is a picture that I can't shake that, when it's our time and we're waiting, confused outside the door of our home, it will be Frank who takes us in and feeds us Lorna Doones and rubs our tummies until we feel comfortable again.