Saturday, December 23, 2006

Frankly My Dear....

Joy and Todd are dogsitting Heidi's rescue Brussels Griffon (pronounced with a hoity toity French accent) while she is galivanting around Egypt. Now, Frank is everything everyone except elderly ladies can't stand in a dog. She was abused in the past so she skitters away from strangers and fast movements. When she decides she likes you, she jumps up and tries to lick you on the mouth. She creeps into empty rooms and poops on the carpet when you leave the doors open to let in the heat. Her nose looks like it was guilloteened. Worst of all, her little nails TIC-TIC-TIC across the hardwood floors and set your teeth on edge.

Heidi adopted her because she felt that no one else would take her. When her name comes up in casual conversation, no one just says Frank. No, the name is drawn out, inflected like you were discussing a particularly nefarious crime or revolting infection.

I am appalled. Here I am, a supposed animal lover. How can I feel this loathing to a creature so innocent of all that repels me? (Granted, she could control the pooping and mouth-licking.) I decide Frank and I are going to be best friends. It will take effort. It will take intention. I LOVE FRANK!!!!

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