Oct 30, 2024, 4:13 PM

notes/writing.frank.md

@@ -2,7 +2,7 @@
 id: dya6m0bs0m9dn9llieo7cfz
 title: Frank
 desc: ''
-updated: 1730322097789
+updated: 1730322779095
 created: 1730318599354
 ---
 
@@ -26,4 +26,8 @@ i work from home, and most of the day he sits curled up at my feet below my desk
 
 when we first met frank at the shelter, i had been arguing for months about getting a dog. i grew up with dogs around. at my grandma's farmhouse, for all the first years of my life, there was a shorthair husky named Hannah. She was one of the sweetest dogs ive ever met, and she has been the yardstick by which i judge all other canines. When I was 7, they found a puppy sequested in the boy scout shelter on the edge of town - bear in mind, this was in the middle of a central wisconsin winter. He was only a few months old, and when they found him, his bowl of water had been frozen over. It wasn't neglect, just an instance of youthful indiscretion - someone had adopted this puppy without telling their parents, and their parents refused to take him in. The adopter couldn't find a place to keep him, so they put the puppy in this shelter. he ended up in the humane society shelter in the next town over, and my parents took me to meet him. we, of course, fell in love and took him home. His name was 'Socks', but that wasn't a very fitting name. My dad wanted to name him 'Ike', after Eisenhower, but my mom refused. We named him 'Sherman'. He looked like a Rhodesian ridgeback, except for the titular ridge. Sherman's mom was an aussie shepherd, and the father was a coon hound. The mom was a farm dog that got knocked up by a neighbnor's dog, a tale as old as time. Anyways, that was my 'first dog' officially, although i feel like Hannah was that in all but name.
 
-frank had spent 3 months in the shelter when we met him. my wife wanted a small dog - she had never had a dog before, her sister adopted a mutt after Sri Lanka was hit in a tsunami in 2010, but my wife was 'too busy chasing boys' according to her story and she never really imprinted on pinky until after frank. we went to the shelter to meet a bunch of senior fellows, all of them small. frank's cloister was sort of the vestibule of the operation - the other dogs were all in other areas, but to get to them, you had to go through this vestibule. 
+frank had spent 3 months in the shelter when we met him. my wife wanted a small dog - she had never had a dog before, her sister adopted a mutt after Sri Lanka was hit in a tsunami in 2010, but my wife was 'too busy chasing boys' according to her story and she never really imprinted on pinky until after frank. we went to the shelter to meet a bunch of senior fellows, all of them small. frank's cloister was sort of the vestibule of the operation - the other dogs were all in other areas, but to get to them, you had to go through this vestibule. between meeting Shrimp & Grits, a pair of dachshunds, and Moneypenny, an aussie on hospice, we ran into frank. the first moment you crossed into his domain, it was clear how gentle his soul was. he wanted to play with someone so badly, he grabbed his whole bed and hoisted it towards me like it was a toy. we spent a little bit of time with him, and despite his size, he was so gentle. later on, when we lived with my parents for a few months, between moving from oakland and moving to chicago, i would play with him in my parents garage - we would move the cars out and i would swing a rope toy around for him to chase. sometimes, frank would be on the other end of the toy as i swung. once, during this kind of play, he leapt for the rope but misjudged, and wrapped his jaws around my arm. he didn't bite down, didn't hurt me at all, and let go immediately (& sheepishly). before then, i knew his gentleness, but that confirmed it.
+
+we went to spend some time with moneypenny after meeting frank in his vestibule. moneypenny was sweet, but she was sick that day, and it felt like she was really on her last legs. i hope the end of her life was peaceful, but this isn't her story. we took frank on a walk around the block. he doesn't do this anymore, but for the first few years, whenever we took him on a walk, he would carry his rope with him. whenever he saw a dog, he would chomp on it like a horse chomping a bit. it was like a security blanket, and he never left home without it, until he did, when the ropes started to get too tough for his teeth. we left the shelter that day without a dog, and a decision to make. my wife didn't admit it then, but her heart was set on frank - she was just afraid because he was 'big'. she left for a trip a few weeks later, and told me that when she came back, either frank was at our house or not, which was as close as she could get to saying 'yes' without saying yes.
+
+of course, i went and picked him up. the rest is history, mostly.