Frank Shaw
Bio
I work. I podcast. I write. I game. I hang out with my dogs. I try to move on while remembering the good times. Sometimes I create music. I'm in my 40's in I still don't know what I am in life.
Stories (16/0)
One year.
It's been a year. Today, at about 6:00 p.m., it's been a year since she sat down and said, "I need to talk." It's been about a year since I smirked. I thought it would be a talk about my health. It wasn't. "I think that it would be best if we ended this relationship."
By Frank Shaw2 years ago in Humans
Worms
Tightly holding the rope that served as the dog’s collar, the man sat on the edge of the ledge and peered down at the shoreline. The mongrel had given up on its barking for a moment and sat panting next to him. Down on the shore were three thick pinkish tentacle-like things laying across the rocky beach, nearly touching the cliff face.
By Frank Shaw2 years ago in Horror
Lost, and Six Months Alone
I, like most people, had one of the worst years imaginable in 2020. The pandemic is a given, naturally. But then I lost my sister, a beloved dog, and an Aunt in a matter of four months. I struggled with crippling depression throughout the year. Then a week shy of the anniversary of what I consider the start of the worst year ever (March 12th), and the day after I received my first dose of the Covid-19 vaccine, my ex sat me down and broke up with me, then moved out the next day. So this year, 2021, hasn't been much better in many ways.
By Frank Shaw3 years ago in Psyche
Just a Dog part 8
Not the Dog You Think It Is. When I say “my dog Max” most of my family think of the albino Sharpei that lived a short, tumultuous life with my parents and me when I was fourteen (or so). Typically that’s what I would be speaking of if I were to mention my dog, Max. However, there was another dog named Max. One I had before the infamous one that everyone knows.
By Frank Shaw3 years ago in Petlife
The Unbearable Year
One year ago today, March 12th, 2020, I woke up like any other day. My lady and I were up early for work. We drove the 10 miles into town. I dropped her off at her job and went into my work. The day was easy, ad changes. I sat down with several department managers at the grocery store I worked at and made adjustments to the ad flier and products according to their needs. The ad group puts the flier together for us. We tweak it to fit the store better.
By Frank Shaw3 years ago in Psyche
Just a Dog
Like me, I’d like to think that my father’s love of dogs came from his father. Unfortunately, I can never be sure. I never knew my grandpa Shaw. He passed away when I was three, so any bit of knowledge about him has come from my father, aunts, and uncles, siblings, or cousins. That isn’t to say I don’t have memories of him. I remember an old hunched-over man with a kind smile and a traumatizing sense of humor.
By Frank Shaw3 years ago in Petlife
Just a Dog
Bulldogs. My father loved bulldogs. I’m not sure where this love came from, perhaps one of my siblings can enlighten me, but it has influenced me. I won’t say no to any dog, I love them all, but I have a particular affinity to the sad flat-nosed breeds known for all the horrible health issues. One of my most loved dogs was a pug.
By Frank Shaw3 years ago in Petlife
Just a Dog.
Go here for parts one, two, and three. A whole gallon of water. My dad would go out to the wood sale almost every day, his health permitting. Besides a broken back, he suffered health problems from a diet of meat and potatoes and a lifelong smoking habit. During the week, he’d cut enough wood to fill up the back of his truck plus a little more. On the weekend, I would go out with and load the truck while he cut. On one of his weekday trips in late winter, he found One Gallon, or more accurately, that One Gallon found him. The dog wandered into where my father was cutting, and he had just settled down to have some lunch and sharpen the teeth on his chainsaw. The dog was skinny, malnourished collie, and had not seen a person in ages, which was even more apparent, considering that there were no sheep in the area and hadn’t been for months.
By Frank Shaw3 years ago in Petlife
Just a Dog:
For part 1 and part 2. A little more about dad At 28, my father broke his back while hunting. He and a friend were on horseback riding up a small steep draw in the hills near our home. The friend’s horse stopped when he reached the top of the hill and my father’s horse, who was behind the friend’s horse, lost balance on the steep incline and rolled over backward on top of my dad as they both rolled down the hill, breaking his back. He told me that the only thing that went through his head while rolling down the hill was to protect the new rifle he had just bought.
By Frank Shaw3 years ago in Families
Just a Dog
My father is the reason I love dogs so much. Well, perhaps not the only reason, but a huge contributing factor. We had several dogs as I grew up, and some of them were mine, but others were definitely my fathers. We didn’t always have dogs growing up, but the ones we had very memorable for different reasons. Two of the most memorable were his, one was his protector, the other was something else. I think the two that my father owned that had the largest impact on my life were these two. But there was another one that I barely remember, but I still somehow loved it. That dog had a profound effect on me as well and colored how I would see the animals. His name was Wilbur.
By Frank Shaw3 years ago in Petlife
