WHAT A DAY IT HAS BEEN. WHAT A RARE MOOD I’M IN. WHY IT’S ALMOST LIKE BEING IN LOVE! WITH A SMILE ON MY FACE. I WOULD SWEAR I WAS FALLING, I COULD SWEAR I WAS FALLING, IT’S ALMOST LIKE BEING IN LOVE – Frank Sinatra
I got the message. An injured Boxer was just taken in at BARC. Would you please go check him out and photograph him? My biggest problem is I have a hard time saying no. Especially to dogs in need. It’s really more of an addiction than an affliction. Whatever, I probably need therapy.
I went to meet him. “No name” was a total sweetie pie. Habitual tail wagger. I took him outside and photographed him. Great on a leash. The only time he left my side was to go do his business. House trained. Very handsome! But very beat up. He had a huge gash in his head that made Herman Munster (you young people google it) look attractive. Therefore, I named him Frank – for Frankenstein. It was fitting, and he seemed okay with it. I walked him into the operating room and Dr. Washington and I cleaned the would. It was deep. It had to hurt. He didn’t flinch. He was a stoic. Sadly, for this boy, when his three day mandatory stray wait was over, he was on the bad list. No fault of his own, the shelter was way overcrowded.
Not on my watch. I made a few calls and thankfully Rescued Pets Movement, who by the way has saved over 25,000 shelter animals on death row in just three short years, and Two Blondes All Breed Rescue, tagged him. Now we just needed to find a place till he transported to Colorado. I took him in. He went to work with me every day. It was remarkable how sweet, loving, and trusting he was – especially after he was obviously beaten up my someone. He loved going to work and made the office his. He thought I was his human. Sadly for me, I was not. I was just his transition human. He didn’t know that. How could he?
I took him to my vet. They were busy because of the Thanksgiving holiday, but they squeezed him in. While we were waiting I opened his mouth and discovered the cutest little under bite. Pretty common in Boxers. But then I noticed his gorgeous smile was a little crooked. Only noticeable from the inside of his mouth. It was hard to see because every time I got close enough he couldn’t stop kissing me. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I asked my vet and he said someone had obviously fractured Frank’s jaw and it had grown back a little crooked. That made sense based on the scars and injuries he had. Still, it didn’t phase him at all. He couldn’t adore people more. I wondered how an animal can bounce back from the cruelty he was exposed to. But you would never know what Frank had been through based on his injuries. His body had healed, just as his mind and soul had. I was in awe of him and of course fell madly in love with him.
He went with me everywhere. He loved riding in the truck. A bit of a redneck. Not that there’s anything wrong with that either. Dr Washington neutered him and stitched his gash up. She does nice work. It looked great. He was so good natured that everyone got a big smile plastered on their face when they saw him, but definitely when they met him. He was a charmer, to be sure.
He made it to Colorado and I’m sure he’s spreading the love as thick as peanut butter to whoever he’s with. Because he knows no other way. That’s the thing about a great dog, they weasel their way into your heart – and never leave. Even when they do leave.
And I then decided he was actually named after Frank Sinatra, ‘Old Blue Eyes’, ‘Chairman of The Board’.
And it’s almost like being in love. Because it is. Have a great life Frank!