The Dynamic Duo

I regret to say that this post will be of a somber note as I contemplate the eminent departure of a dear little dog who has been an integral part of our family for many, many years. Frankie, a little wire-haired terrier has the incurable medical conditions of congestive heart failure and a partially collapsed trachea. We have known of this diagnosis for about a year, and until recently, have been managing it (sort of) with medications. His most obvious symptom is a frequent, barking cough, but the scariest one manifests itself when Frankie is over-excited, usually at the arrival of a loved family member. He collapses on his side as if dead, unable to get enough air. But after he calms down a bit, he comes out of it and acts normal again. Well, now the poor little guy coughs all the time, and can hardly walk. He won’t even try to get outdoors to “use the facilities” any more, and that particular type of house cleanup has become routine around here. For about a week he has refused to eat his expensive “heart diet” canned dog food (wherein we hide the pills), and now is even refusing the contraband canned cat food he so coveted before. Such is his importance in the family that Johnny was ready, after I called him about 8:30 tonight, to come straight home, a one hour drive, so that he might see Frankie alive once more. I persuaded him to wait til tomorrow, and hope that won’t be too late.

Side note: (Well, I always seem to underestimate the little fellow. I was touched when he lumbered in here to assume his favorite position of lying by my feet under the computer desk. He even deigned to eat a little of that aforementioned cat food. And then, suddenly, a flash, a noise, and my computer was dead! I finally figured out that Frankie must have hit the master power switch on the surge protector with his foot! I am so proud of Microsoft Word for saving, without being told to, most of my document!) We inherited Frankie on the death of his “Dad”, who also happens to be my husband, John’s Dad. It seemed that promising to take care of his dog was the least we could do for Dad, who was dying of liver cancer. Frankie’s full and complete name is “Francis Xavier Macintosh McDonald”. I used to tease Dad and tell him that I thought he should have named the dog “FrankEinstein” because he was so smart. The funny thing was that we had watched Frankie for Dad before, and if we weren’t vigilant, the little tyke would always run “home” (about 2 miles away), and we would have to go chase him down. But Frankie was present at Dad’s death, and as devoted as he was in life, afterwards he never ran away or even seemed to look for his master. I always thought he somehow knew.
I was the one who “found” Frankie for him. Dad was lost and lonely at the unexpected death of his wife, John’s mother. I spotted this little puppy in a pet store in Idaho Falls; he was the spitting image of another dog that Dad had owned when my kids were small. Willie was one of the smartest dogs I have ever known. He had a houseful of toys, and if his “Mom and Dad” mentioned that the grandkids were coming over, he would hide his favorites. Willie had a friction-powered car, and he used to run down the hallway with a paw on top of the car. He would try to steal his own gifts from under the Christmas tree, but never touch the others. And he was a fanatical “fetcher”; sticks, rocks, whatever he could find. Willie wasn’t a good “kid’s dog” and often growled at the grandkids, showing all his teeth. Little Bobby thought this was a wonderful game, and would shove his little fingers in Willie’s face, jerking them back as the dog snapped at him, shrieking with laughter. Of course that all came to an end one day when Willie actually connected…….
Frankie, so like Willie physically, was totally UNLIKE him in every other way. Frankie’s main joys in life were eating and running. He never showed any interest in doggy toys, unless they could also be chewed (much like Johnny, I guess….”Can my eat it?”). He was very slow to housebreak, and many an irritating diatribe was directed at me about “this dog you found me.” Frankie was well known at the café in Howe where the men all gathered for coffee. Dad would leave Frankie in the car with the window rolled partially down, and he would loudly announce, with loud and prolonged barking, each new arrival (and many other things we could never quite figure out.) Once in a while, Dad would go out to the car, and kind of whap the dog with his hat and yell “Shut Up”, but he never did. Now, for many years, he has been our dog. He has a special affection for my husband John, but loves all of us, and most anyone else who will give him a little attention. He loved to ride on the irrigation motorcycle in front of John as they went out into the fields to check the crops. He loved to run circles around the house, as we “oohed and aahed” at his great speed. He loved to be petted and fussed over and beg for table scraps. Bob, remember the game you and UltraGirl were playing with him last fall when you visited? You would pretend to be a mean guy coming to get her, and Frankie would rush at you growling, but would instantly call off his attack for a belly rub. Now he can barely walk two steps without stopping to rest. Maybe someday I will have another dog. Any some day I will tell you about the other dogs in my life. But today it’s Frankie’s turn. He’s still here, but I miss him already.
UltraMom