Frankly

So, my dogless days are over as I adopted a pooch last Wednesday. I had asked Carlene's mom--who is a volunteer dog-walker at the shelter in her county--to keep an eye out for a beagle or beagle mix for me, except not a puppy. Due to C-19, she is not currently working at the shelter, but she asked the paid staff to let her know of any beagle activity.

Last Tuesday I was swamped at the office when I received a text from her with attractive pictures:  beagle just surrendered by owner, about 40 pounds, long legs, and a year old. That was a few years younger than I was thinking, but with the dog shortage, I felt I had to consider changing that parameter for this prospect. His name is Frankie and he was so handsome in the pictures. I also received a photo of his "surrender report" that indicated the reason he was let go was due to another dog in the household that didn't like him.

Also, his former owner reported that he was housebroken which, if true, was a big plus

The shelter workers told Carlene's mom that he was very friendly. Between his looks and other desirable qualities, he would go fast!  Was I interested?  Call now!!

So, I called and told the director I would take him if they could hold him so that I could pick him up the next day. I realize that was probably more of a commitment than I should have made, but I had the last of my vacation days to take on Friday and today to give me a four-day stretch to hang with a new dog. The time was right.

Frankie is quite a comical dog. He has lengthy snow-white legs; they were calling him a "tall beagle" at the shelter. He likely has some beagle in him, but I think he has more foxhound in his DNA. He weighs 45 pounds, not 40, which pushed that parameter as well. I had said I would take him, so after spending some time with him at the shelter, I put a leash on it and packed him into the back seat of my car. He came with a box of worldly possessions:  an expensive "Kong" harness, a mega leash, dog dishes that look like they could have come from Pottery Barn, some toys, and a bottle of Burt's Bees oatmeal dog shampoo. He was an upscale dog accustomed to designer labels.

Carlene's mom came to meet him and see him drive off with me. I walked him on the lawn of the shelter for her to take some photos, and he took a big poop for us. That was a good thing to get behind us before a 45-minute drive in rush hour traffic.

I was worried that he would try to jump into the front seat with me, but he was very good in the car. I had brought a squeaky orange Lamb Chop (yes, who remembers Shari Lewis and Lamb Chop?) for him, which he played with throughout the drive. No problem. Mr. W couldn't come with me because it was his first night of summer league golf. (YAY!)  I was concerned that Mr. W would think that Frankie was a bad choice because of his size and age.

Actually, Mr. W likes him. He took the Frankster walking on a local trail one afternoon last week and he noticed that a lot more people said "hello" to him, mostly women, than normal. Frankie is a chick magnet!

Frankie truly is very housebroken. He goes to a door to let us know when he needs to go out. For a treat, he will sit, shake, and lay down. He takes the treat softly; all of which his previous owner obviously taught him. Now, we need to break him of jumping on people, counters, tables, and furniture. With his long legs, he can seriously launch his body onto numerous tall surfaces. He is so strong and enthusiastic, I think it's going to take a taser!

Also, he is still a puppy and wants to chew, chew, chew. Have to make sure that he can't get into trash cans, laundry, or shoes. Basically, keep the doors to the bedrooms closed. This will be an ongoing battle. Besides shredding poor Lamb Chop into pieces, he chewed the heel off Carlene's sandal when she and Dan came to visit Mr. W for Father's Day. When he is quiet, better look to see what he's doing! 

He loves our second story deck on which he can oversee the yard. He is safe out there and can't destroy anything (unless he starts chewing the wooden rails), so he will be overseeing the yard quite a bit in the future. That's my new dog, Frankie, 45 pounds of trouble!