January 4, 2011
The 5 am walk was actually a 6.15 am walk this morning.
Tired, I just didn't want to leave the warmth of my bed.
It's cold outside.
Not that Frankie minds.
But I have to put on so many layers that if I ever fell, I'd lay there like a turtle on my back waiting for someone to come and turn me over.
Provided Frankie didn't attempt to eat them first.
Yesterday, around 4.30, Stephen and I took Frankie to the farm.
It was colder then than it was at 5.00 am.
Man, it was cold!
Frankie running around like a newly released prisoner.
Other dogs frolicking with him.
Chasing him.
Because while my boy is all boy with people, he is actually very submissive with other dogs.
We encountered friends of ours and their two black labs.
So while the walk was cold, it was warmer with the company of friends.
And watching Frankie run around with other dogs.
Enjoying the companionship he misses so much.
Even if it was fleeting.
Of course, our little man loves sticks.
LOVES them.
And once he clamps one between his teeth, getting it from him is most unlikely.
In spite of the fact that he wants you to get it, throw it for him.
Usually, we have two sticks.
One to distract him.
The other to grab when he isn't looking.
Loving the looks of stunned amazement on his face when he comes back and sees that you have a stick in your hand.
When he has one in his mouth.
How DOES that happen?
His latest conquest was unique indeed.
At least 7 feet long.
Wider at one end than the other.
And Frankie hell bent and determined he was going to have this stick.
Or tree branch to be more specific.
He ran around with the behemoth branch in his mouth, tipping him to one side or the other depending on which side the heaviest end was located.
His companion dogs tried to get the behemoth branch from him to no avail.
They gave up.
He didn't.
Whacking us in the backs of the knees as he ran behind and then around us.
Smacking us up side the head when we were looking in the opposite direction.
Not giving in, there was an heated tussle when we finally made it back to the car.
Stephen, Frankie and the stick.
Stephen won.
But not without a struggle.
Frankie does not give up his sticks willingly.
Only thing stronger than Frankie's will is Stephen's will not to have the behemoth branch in the back of the car.
Poor Frankie.
No matter how strong his will, he'll never defeat an OCD clean freak.
One of the suggestions from Annette the greatest dog trainer in response to Frankie's mourning was to give him extra TLC.
Ask me to do something difficult.
In spite of the iron clad rule that no dog shall rest his hind quarters upon the cushions of the newest couch, Frankie has found a way to circumvent the house axiom.
Duck blanket resting on the dog hair magnetized burgundy couch, he snuggles up in his corner, sighs deeply, and eventually falls asleep.
Stephen saw him resting comfortably atop the blanket.
Sat down beside him.
Told him not to get too comfortable.
And then turned to me and said he didn't mind him being up there if I didn't mind him being up there.
But. . .
Because there is always a but with Stephen. . . .
"He can't be up there without no blanket underneath him!"
Really, Stephen.
No blanket.
Vacation time must be leading him to verbally digress.
Speaking Geary.
Definitely time to go back to work.
Title Lyric: Body is A Wonderland by John Mayer
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