His Name Is Frank

Frank is a rather long fellow, with stumpy legs and medium length mahogany and snowy white fur. His ear fur is trimmed straight across, reminding one of a bowl cut your mom used to give you before you had a say in what was cool. The hair on top of his head flows freely, not unlike the wisps you would find atop Bernie Sander’s head on a windy day. At 13 years old, this charismatic dachshund -who is almost completely blind and deaf- lets nothing slow him down.

To be honest, I’ve never really met a dog like Frank. I strive to be like this dog. He has zero cares about anything negative that happens to him. The cat swats him when he gets too close? No big deal, he keeps walking. He trips over an invisible bump in the sidewalk? No big deal, he keeps walking. Talk about letting things roll off your back!

Now I wish I had the privilege to have been in Frank’s life for all of his thirteen years, but I am not lucky enough to be able to say that. I’d love to take credit for the cavalier persona this guy has, but alas, I cannot. Frank came into my life almost a year ago after I had the good fortune to come across an advertisement his previous owner had placed online.

“New Home Needed for Senior Dog”. Okay, I was intrigued. Who lets go of a dog they’ve had for the dog’s entire life? Incredulously, I had to know what his reasoning was. I clicked on the online post and instantly came face to face with the cutest, and most peculiar looking dog I had ever seen. He had a wonky eye, and needed a good grooming, but instantly I was in love. Immediately, I called the owner and told him how interested I was in Frank. I let him know about my background in Veterinary Technology, and that Frank would be going to a safe and happy home.

“Well, I’m getting old myself and I’m having a harder time taking care of Frankie nowadays, let alone doing things for myself.” He rasped over the phone.

“Well I’d be happy to give this sweet pup a good home.” I replied in earnest. That night we met at the police station, my husband and I eager to meet our new fur child. From that night on, nothing has been the same, and the change has been for the better a million times over.

“How do we communicate with him?” my husband, Eric, pondered when we got him home.

“I’m not sure, the guy said he was mostly deaf and almost blind.” Frank sat in the middle of the living room looking up at us with his crystal blue eyes.

“Frankie!” Eric said in a high pitched voice, clapping his hands. Frank continued to look unfazed.

“Maybe he can hear high pitched things,” I offered. “Try whistling!”

A sharp whistle pierced the air and Frank’s head whipped around, alert and inquisitive.

“I’d say that works,” I concluded as we both began to laugh at what an unusual relationship this was going to be.

Getting to know Frank has been one for the books. Frank has a huge personality. It’s easy to forget that you’re dealing with a dog and not a miniature human. When we first brought Frank home, he didn’t make much noise. I’d begun to think maybe he didn’t like to converse, and kept his doggy opinions to himself. All it took was putting him on the couch and leaving the room for him to find his voice. Unsure of how to jump down from the couch, he made his contempt for being left alone very well known.

“What was that?” I asked Eric, slightly startled. A loud honking noise mixed with a bit of a shriek emanated from the living room.

“I think it’s Frankie,” he whispered, eyes wide. Frank saw to it that we never made that mistake again.

It took a lot of toys and failed attempts to get Frank to play before we found out what he really liked. Early on we found out that he loved stuffed animals… maybe a little too much.

“Well your mom’s dog loves stuffed animals,” I remarked to Eric. “Maybe he’ll carry around a stuffed toy,” I reasoned. The next day he brought home a stuffed animal in the shape of a heart for Valentine’s Day.

“Here you go buddy,” he said as he gently placed the toy between Frank’s paws. Frank’s eyes brightened and he quickly grabbed the stuffed toy. This mellow and laid back dog began to ferociously shake the heart and rip it to shreds. A sea of stuffing sprawled across the living room; the toy, gutted and defeated, lay in a heap. 
“I’d say that took about 30 seconds,” Eric concluded, looking at his watch for measure.

Next we tried a rubber bone.

“Surely he’ll like this,” I commented as I took the bone out of the plastic wrapping. I handed the bone to Frank who gingerly took it and laid it on the ground. He peered up at me as if to say “What else ya got?”

We had begun to think we’d never see our senior boy play, but in true Frank style, he used his big personality to keep us on our toes. After finishing a soda, Eric closed the the bottle and accidentally dropped it on the floor.

“I’m too tired to pick it up,” he groaned. Suddenly there was a loud crunching sound. We looked down to find Frank crunching on the bottle merrily. The bottle slipped from his lips and rolled away. Frank pounced on it as if he was reliving his younger years, chasing and gnawing on the bottle, and giving it a chomp for good measure. We sat and laughed at his antics. Sometimes it really is just the simple things in life, like a good old pop bottle to play with.

I don’t know how much time we have left with Frank, I don’t really think about that. I do know that everyday we are given is precious to us. I’m not sure what made the stars align for us to have this blessing of a dog come into our lives, for however long, but I know I won’t take it for granted. Frank snores next to me as I write this, and I think about what a great example he sets. Live everyday to the fullest, don’t sweat the small stuff, and you’re never too old to have a little fun. Isn’t that what life is all about?