It pleases me in shivery ways to announce the latest addition to our cult of love – Frankie!
I rescued Frankie from the dog pound. On Saturday, the pound’s mobile unit cruised up to 82nd Street and Broadway. I have had my eye on adoptions now for some time, waiting for the right opportunity for Peanut to say G’day.
While there will never be any replacement for our beloved Henry, it’s time for my little girl to learn to love again. Fingers and toes are crossed that Frankie can help.
Frankie is the first dog I have rescued. I came across Peanut and Henry in the backyard of a few Queenslanders who had a litter. As can be expected, raising an animal from eight weeks… and rescuing one who is about two years = totally different deals.
Poor Frankie joins us very underweight, at least 4 kilos. His nose is scratched from pushing against the kennel door in the pound. He had the longest claws I’ve seen on a dog, watery eyes and a cough. I brought him to the vet who diagnosed him with a cold. They gave me some medicine.
Life changes drastically with a new family member, even after only a day and a half. This morning he danced around Central Park with Peanut, and he spent much of this rainy day resting.
I’m kind of having a heart attack about caring for two dogs again, over one – but I’ve become quite an advocate of the concept that dogs are pack animals and live much happier lives with a fellow canine companion.
Frankie is curled and tucked in Peanut’s big canvas crate. I hope he has sweet dreams. I learn something new about him each second.