So, you may have noticed that I haven’t been quick to write about Frank. I haven’t even updated his profile on the OPH website. I’ll get to it, I will. But right now I’m still humoring this crazy debate between my head and my heart about Frank.
Frank is awesome. And I know as soon as I start writing about his awesomeness, some wonderful person is gonna want to adopt him and I’m still trying to figure out if we are that awesome person.
I’m not going to foster fail. I’ve said that. Again and again. Heck, if I was going to foster fail it would have been with Carla, not some skinny, funny looking, boy dog with crazy eyes.
My husband is pressuring me. He loves this dog. He even said last night, “What if I put in the application and he’s my dog?”
But he isn’t his dog.
Frank loves me. Yesterday when I left him for the first time, he nearly went through a window screen to follow me.
I’ve always said I just want a dog who comes when he’s called. Frank doesn’t even have a real name and he comes when he’s called. My last two hound dogs did not have that talent. My personal dog makes a point of not even looking in my direction when I call her name. (I should just change her name, then it wouldn’t feel so insulting.)
I took Frank for a bath on the morning after he arrived. He was kind of dirty, his coat was coarse and he smelled – just a little. We went to the fancy self-serve dog wash at Pet Valu that costs $10. I put on the apron they provided and used up at least half the bottle of fancy (tropical) soap they provided. Then I made sure to use at least four towels. That felt like $10 worth.
Frank was ridiculously cooperative. He even walked up the ramp and stood in the sink while I was just reading the labels on all the fancy soaps and conditioners and colognes (really!). He enjoyed a lengthy blow dry. When we were finished he wooed a four-year-old in the cat aisle while I was reading about deshedding combs for my elderly cat who has recently forgotten to shed.
He sampled all (really all) of the dog treats in the display bowls scattered around the store.
Next I took him to the farmers market where he charmed everyone he met. The fancy homemade dog treat vendor even gave us an entire bag of premium handmade treats for free! He made friends everywhere we went, but he was a magnet for kids. He is crazy about kids, literally dragging me to see everyone under three feet. One toddler whose face was level with Frank’s, took Frank’s big head in his hands and rubbed noses. Then put his tiny hands inside Frank’s mouth to examine his teeth. It was beyond normal. This dog is such a sweetheart. They don’t make them any sweeter or gentler, anywhere.
Frank has the most amazing eyes. I’ve never seen this before. He has one crystal blue eye and one eye that is half blue and half brown, neatly divided down the middle. It’s remarkable.
Frank is deathly skinny. I’ve been feeding him 9 cups of dogfood a day (3 at every meal), plus entire bags of treats. His head looks oddly huge but that’s only because his body looks like he just stepped out of Auschwitz. Someone didn’t take care of this dog. But Frank? He hasn’t got a resentful bone in his body (and I’ve felt pretty much all of them now).
I’m trying desperately to cling to my convictions. I am not adopting another dog. I am fostering. I am doing this to help as many dogs as possible. Adopting Frank would make that goal difficult. Here’s how desperate my hubby is…he actually said, “Just keep him and then do only puppies.” (He knows I’ll never adopt another puppy. WAY too much work.) That’s crazy talk.
Here’s the thing. It hurt when Carla left. It hurt even more when Boz and then Homegirl left. I had sleepless nights and too many tears. Can I keep doing this?
After only two days, I know that it will REALLY hurt when Frank leaves. How much do I want to beat up my heart? Maybe I’m not made for this? Maybe I’m not as strong as I think.
But I want to be. I want to do this. Not for Boz or Homegirl or Carla or Frank, but for all the dogs to come. Because I know, as evidenced by all the amazing dogs we’ve been privileged to host, that another good dog is right around the corner.
I am going to try my hardest not to cave.