Frank and me

I’m currently reading Marley & Me, the non-fiction account of “life and love with the world’s worst dog”. I didn’t really want to, as it always seemed to me to be the light, easily marketable kind of book that everyone claims to love but forgets forever as soon as they’ve finished it (and so far my initial presumptions were correct). However, I’ve been forced to read it as a sort of homework assignment (someone else’s homework, but that’s another story).

I bring this up because it serves highlight my relationship with my own dog. Having returned to the family homestead, I’ve been reunited with Frank, the family dog. Like Marley, Frank is a Labrador retriever (though not a purebred. Apparently there’s some husky blood in there somewhere), and considering that Marley is the world’s worst dog I’m having a hard time realising why he’s any worse than Frank. Like Marley, Frank doesn’t recognise his own strength, and frequently knocks people over (literally) with his friendliness. He chews up whatever he can get his jaws on. He refuses to lets us wash him, yet zips for every last puddle when taken for a walk. His favourite game is a sort of wrestling which involves biting. He never bites through though. He just sort of holds arms and legs in his mouth. So I nervously tell myself that he will never actually attack anyone as biting to him is something to do as play.

Maybe he’s just particularly bad when I’m home, as my presence in the house is something of a novelty and it gets him excited. Of course this doesn’t explain why other dog owners can do things with ease that are impossible with Frank. For instance, I occasionally notice dogs outside supermarkets and places, tied to railings while patiently waiting for their owners. My brother tried this with Frank once. Refusing to be left alone, he pulled the metal railing he was tied to from its wall. I too tried something similar once, but the poor dog went into such a panic that he made it impossible (though he probably did me a favour, given that in a moment of hunger-driven weakness I was trying to enter a McDonalds).

Currently Frank is tormetted by the dreaded cone, preventing him from gnawing at a cut in his back leg. He looks like an after-shot of that HMV logo. He needn’t worry too much though as I don’t see it lasting long. He already broke a piece off yesterday by running it into the back of my legs.

Incidentally, reading Marley & Me got me thinking. If one attempted to use the Bart Simpson “the dog ate my homework” excuse for not having their report on this book, could they get some credit for creative interpretation of the assignment.

1 Response to “Frank and me”

  1. 1 Róisín
    February 9, 2009 at 10:36 am

    hiya =] omg your blog is soooo cool!!! and so is your dog frank haha he did nearly knock me over with his friendliness before (im your craziest sister andrea’s best friend thats how i found out about this) i hope you write some more! and i hope you win that award tingy! by the way andrea says hi =]

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