There are a lot of incredible stories of dogs saving someone's life. This story about a dog saving a boy with Type 1 diabetes' by waking his mother when his blood sugar got too low reminded me I still have to share the stories of why I did dog training for Frankie.
Frankie fairly immediately decided I was his mama and he gave me his full allegiance. I was really sick with Lyme when I adopted him and I figured a dog would help the healing process and keep me moving on days when just getting out of bed would be a struggle. That part of the plan was true beyond what I could even have expected.
"I DON'T CARE IF YOU HAVE LYME. STOP NAPPING AND THROW THE TURTLE!!" - Frankie
What I didn't realize was the extent to which Frankie could sense how diseased I was. My guess is something similar to smelling glucose levels was going on expect instead of just smelling my blood sugar (which sometimes would dangerously plummet because of Lyme-- the doctor called it diabetes insipidus), I think he could also smell when my blood ammonia levels were dangerously high.
On days like that we would still walk at least 2-3mi (not all at once and very slowly...), except instead of being mellow to make my life easier, Frankie was convinced every man near me was out to kill. There was a process to it...
... first Frankie would notice there was a man and that the man was moving...
... then he would decide it to be his duty to scare the man away...
...then when the man continued to walk/run/bike/skateboard past us...
It was a tough cycle to break Frankie out of especially because whenever it happened I was so fatigued I felt more like collapsing on the sidewalk then convincing the hyped-up guy to calm down.
One evening in August when I was really tired (and had not yet discovered the total emptiness of the Cherryvale trailhead), I took Frankie to Chattaqua. Walking along Aurora/30th was too crowded, I figured on a weekday around 8pm the trail would be totally empty.
We got there and it was. Since Frankie had more energy than my slow walking could quench, I let him off-leash figuring he could scamper around.
Frankie's general behavior at Chattaqua.
It was a good plan....at least, until we were ambushed!
Ok, it wasn't quite like that. But to Frankie it might as well've been. Some man had the gall to run past us from behind! No warning at all! And me smelling like a diseased bag of ammonia and death!
Frankie knew what he had to do.
With fury, he started to chase the fiend down with a level of fearsome viciousness lying somewhere between these two gifs....
Of course, the man was a stereotypical entitled-Boulder rich white guy (for more info on this phenomenon, check here) and instead of taking two seconds to stop running enabling me to quickly grab Frankie, he just started screaming profanities at us while trying to run faster (uphill-- an important thing to be aware of because when running uphill FRANKIE WILL ALWAYS WIN. HE IS ONLY 10 POUNDS AND APPARENTLY DOESN'T NEED OXYGEN). Now Frankie's task was not only to protect me but to also win the game of running while loudly barking-- a game he thoroughly enjoys.
Somehow that man survived unscathed and I was able to get Frankie back on-leash.
Now I know whenever I feel like dying, Frankie will always have my back, even if I don't want him to.
"I got your back bitch!"- Frankie
In fact, if you have a dog, this song will never be true for you:
Not quite like that though, although if Frankie could make PB&Js I bet he would.
No, dogs are more like this:
Poop is a favorite of Frankie's and winter is also apparently a favorite season of his because the geese surround our apartment and leave little treasures everywhere for him.
This is what humans see.
This is what Frankie sees.
Of course, goose poop is just one of many delicacies that Frankie enjoys.
This is the point where I have to warn you before continuing with this post-- things are about to get a lot more disgusting.
The faint hearted should not continue.
Frankie and I go running on trails every day. Most days the run is fine and uneventful. But sometimes, the combination of what I ate (being vegan you can sometimes accidentally eat too much fiber...) and Lyme meds causes intestinal turmoil and Mother Nature will suddenly give me a call I can't ignore.
I'll dash off the trail and squat in a flash, but Frankie will be right on my tail trying to stick his nose directly under my ass. Shoving him away while squatting has undoubtedly strengthened my quads, but the real nastiness happens when I'm done and run back to the trail. Even if Frankie comes back to the trail with me it doesn't matter, the smell of the fresh, warm feces is too wonderful and he runs back to investigate...
"Fresh from the oven!" How Frankie perceives my shit.
Of course, Frankie is not limited to enjoying the feces of herbivores.
This may be another turn-around point.
Oh no, Frankie is also a big fan of the homo sapien menstrual cycle.
I'm also a big fan of menstruating, just for different reasons than Frankie...
I use a trashcan with a lid specifically for female hygiene products and I try to close my roommate's bathroom door. Of course, Frankie is a clever little guy. One menstruating-day a few weeks ago, after a long day of work, when I came home I realized I had forgotten to close my bathroom door. Frankie had figured out how to press the button to open the trash can and he had unearthed all the treasure within. He even was considerate enough to chew most of it up into small pieces and spread it across my bedroom floor. Such a sweetheart.
Needless to say, I've become very diligent about keeping my bathroom door closed. Unfortunately, while I've become very focused on closing my bathroom door while menstruating I forgot to remind my roommate to do the same. So, while I was very focused on making sure Frankie couldn't get into my bathroom's treasure chest I forgot about her's.
Frankie didn't forget.
Earlier this week I came home to find her used pads and tampons chewed and scattered across the living room floor. I cleaned it up and closed her bathroom door thinking it was the end of it.
It wasn't.
You should be afraid for what's coming.
Yesterday evening I was walking Frankie and he stopped to poop. This normally is fairly quick process, he squats, shit comes out, I pick it and we move on. This time, he was squatting and really straining. He kept relocating in his squat position as if he thought a slightly different patch of grass would help it come out. I looked at his ass thinking maybe he ate some weird fibrous thing...
Hanging from his butt was the cord of a tampon marbled with shit. He kept straining and with effort soon the entire tampon-poop sausage was out. Yes. A full fucking tampon. Out of Frankie's tiny asshole. Yup. It really happened.
You made it. It hopefully won't get worse than this.
This is a guest post! Written by Nick, it is the tale of Frankie's January transformation via domination and is from my point of view.
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So I was having a lot of trouble with this tiny dog after we moved to our most recent apartment, but then after a month of working on him, he seemed to get used to our new home and decided that he didn't need to protect me from raccoons creeping out of storm grates or sneaky shadows that he himself cast. IT WAS SUCH A RELIEF!!! We were running every day together and snuggling before sleep every night and the world was truly wonderful.
Then we went on vacation.
The vacation itself was great and even though we had to fly to get there, Frankie didn't mind all that much, especially when he met his new best small dog friend Riley.
Frankie & Riley sleeping next to Nick.
He was very well behaved and was nice to (most of) the new people he met. But for this poor dog, 2 weeks of vacation is a significant portion of his life thus far, and he really had no idea that we were going back to Boulder.
I've always admired a dog's ability to just accept life in such a zen-like way, neither preparing for the future nor dwelling on the past, but as soon as we returned to our apartment in Boulder, Frankie said "fuck that zen bullshit!" and proceeded to transform into dog-Satan. He forgot completely that he had lived in this very apartment just 2 weeks prior, and that all the territory that he'd so tirelessly staked out with the help of his tiny dog kidneys— he forgot that it was once his kingdom. The infamous bridge that I'd so patiently let him warm up to again became a treacherous plank of doom and once when I let him off his leash to run with me, he sprinted directly back to our home despite my repeated wails of frustration. When I finally caught up to him back at our place, he looked up at me and immediately realized his mistake, promptly laying down on his belly, his eyes huge and looking pitifully into mine. I know this tactic well and I was still almost tricked by him, but my rage gave me the edge and I forced him to go on that goddamn walk!
He also got suddenly and inexplicably protective of me, barking menacingly at other walkers and even biting one woman on the ankle. He definitely thought he was doing me a solid, being my guardian and all, but it became clear that despite my ability to lift him up with one hand and carry him like a football, it never occurred to him that he might be tiny. This regression made me realize that Frankie had some real psychological damage and I just didn't know if I could deal with him and stay sane myself!
My partner, as an afterthought at the end of one of my rants about my 10 pound demon, suggested I talk to his aunt the dog-trainer. Maybe she'd have some advice. She did. In one 15 minute phone call she changed my life from domination by Frankie to something completely different. Instead of letting him call the shots and allowing him to take his time getting used to the bridge, she said, just try dominating him. If he misbehaves, just jerk the leash, let him know who's boss.
It totally worked! Turns out that Frankie was just waiting for me to start dominating him. A switch flipped and I became his protector and every scrap of fear and misplaced protection-duty that he'd harbored disappeared immediately. He became the happiest tiny dog to roam the earth! He is now completely confident to strut about his kingdom once again, his pee dribbling on trees and toddlers' toys alike. I think this only goes to prove that, as my partner says, every relationship needs a dominant woman in charge.
Frankie has finally gotten over his fears and fallen in line because of the training strategy I've finally successfully employed:
Now the only time he acts afraid is when our ultra-sensitive fire alarm goes off (which happens very frequently when I make stove-top popcorn...). But then he just bolts to his safe place.
"Nothing can get me under this sofa!" -Frankie
Since I'm his boss and protector, he just stays contently by my side when we run. This year we've so far run 78 miles together and most of those were with him being well-behaved on a leash. This past week it's been very warm in Colorado (especially for someone who spent last February living in Boston's snowmaggedon!) and we've returned to running on trails where he's continued the good behavior by staying by my side as we run.
Sunrise on the running trails next to our apartment ^__^
In fact, he's gotten so used to our runs that it's clear that he loves them as much as I do! By afternoon if we haven't run yet he'll start to beg for our run.
"No more computer! Let's go !!!!" -Frankie
Then after we run, unless I distract him with his antler, he often decides me doing push-ups is a great opportunity to see how well he can crawl under me or chew my fingers.
"I will get your fingers!!" - Frankie
Sometimes I respond to this by tossing him on the bed. This is generally successful because before the run I just throw my clothes on the bed and Frankie finds their presence to be extremely exciting.
"CLOTHES! YOU WORE THESE! THEY SMELL GREAT!!" -Frankie
When he eventually gets bored of the clothes, he'll just sit on the edge of the bed and help me keep count of the push-ups/curl-ups.
Always thankful to have another set of eyes keeping count.
Yup, life is good when you've got a good boss and a good friend.
Things that are OK during the day have the potential to become terrifying at night.
For instance, Santa yard figurines already scare Frankie enough that he has to thoroughly bark at them during the day.
"WHY ARE YOU A SMALL MAN THAT SMELLS LIKE PLASTIC!? ARE YOU AN EVIL ROBOT!?! STOP LOOKING AT ME!! BLINK!!!!!!" - Frankie
At night, I'm pretty sure he thinks they become this
Captain Ripley could keep her cool. Frankie can't.
because he just looks at them, then darts by.
Then there are things he doesn't really notice during the day that become terrifying at night...
We go down this path to his favorite play field without any problems during the day. In fact, during the day he loves going down this path because it means he gets to play and romp around off-leash on the field.
isn't it quaint?
At night, the path becomes this:
Except unlike Snow White, Frankie isn't going down without a fight. He's ready, he barks at every shadow, every light, every flicker of movement! The way he barks, sometimes I wonder if there really are aliens on the path that only he is aware of...
is Predator in Boulder? could be where Predator naps before going to the gun-happy places in Colorado...
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