I want Sheldon to give me a tiara.
Patience isn't one of my stronger points.
When I make a decision I tend to want to move forward, now.
Regardless of what others may think is the best course of action.
So when we decided that Frankie needed a companion my instinct was to just go get him one.
Thankfully, Annette the best dog trainer in the world is a force in and of herself and was able to stymie my lack of patience.
Good thing.
Because my patience was rewarded.
His name is Fynnigan.
Fynn for short.
He and Frankie met for the first time yesterday, at the farm, amid blustering, blisteringly cold winds.
Em tagged along, tired of being confined to the house.
She's been home for a week, struggling to rid herself of the infectious malady that has infiltrated our home front.
She's going back to school today.
There we were.
The five of us.
Stephen, Em, me, Frankie and Fynn.
Frankie and Fynn get along just fine.
Fynn's so easy going, it seems it would take an awful lot to rile him up.
And if anyone was going to do that, Frankie would be the prime candidate.
Now, I have been somewhat spoiled by Frankie and Tikka.
Meaning we could go to the farm, release them from the confines of the car, off they would go, but never too far away from us.
Silly me.
I thought Fynn would just stay there because I wanted him to.
Um. No.
At first he was more than willing to hang out with Frankie.
The two of them smelling each others' special places.
And then, just like that, Fynn just turned around and walked in the opposite direction.
Em behind him.
Fynn speeding up.
Em speeding up.
Fynn running.
Em. . . .sort of running.
Stephen running behind both of them.
Me holding Frankie, who was not running anywhere regardless of how he felt about it.
Fynn, after being at the SPCA for some time, decided if he was going to get a chance to make a break for it, he'd be a fool to pass it up.
Unfortunately for Fynn, his desire to run wasn't anywhere near Em's desire to find a dog who would sleep in her room.
One for her to hug and cuddle and love.
(Mice and Men, anyone?)
And she and Stephen eventually corralled the wild Fynn, who returned quite happy to be back in the fold.
He is that easy going.
Once we had completed the initial meet and greet, we returned to the car.
Fynn had come in Em's car.
Frankie in our car.
When Stephen opened the back of the Focus, complete with dog gate, Fynn just jumped in like he'd been doing it for his entire life.
Frankie looked at me, looked at Fynn, and then got in the back with him.
I guess everything was fine.
Back to the SPCA.
Paid the $150.00 donation.
Brought Fynn home.
And all has been well.
He slept in Em's room last night.
Good thing, because Goblet wasn't looking all that excited about sharing her room with a new dog.
Reilley's and Dibley's response: meh. There's a new dog in the house.
Whoopie.
Jaspzilla, king of the tampons, has been less than welcoming.
Sitting at the top of the basement stairs, puffing up to 10 times his normal size every time Fynn came near him.
He'll recover.
He's young.
Nosy.
And unwilling to miss out on a single thing.
Must have been his initial socialization with Mer.
So, welcome Fynn to the Loonie Bin.
You'll fit in just fine.
Title Lyric: Like My Dog by Billy Currington
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