Frank Died. He was my dog, and I hated him.

It was early Fall of 2008, when we decided that we were going to get another dog. Although we had always rescued, we decided that getting a pure bred was the way to go for us with our growing family – the youngest being 8 months old.

We chose an English Lab, which are shorter and stockier than your typical Lab. Their other unique distinction is they have HUGE heads – almost like a bear. (This will become an important detail in future parts of this article.)

The mistake we made when picking him up was putting him in a crate for the car ride.

He barked and barked, and then barked some more.

And he didn’t stop.

He didn’t stop until Saturday, September 19th 2020.

We named him Frank. While we told everyone we named him after the lawnmower in the Cars movie, that really wasn’t true.

I just liked the name, and thought it was a funny name for a dog.

Memorable.

And that is the best way I can describe Frank; memorable.

Now having Frank as a puppy was not easy. Everyone told me that it will be difficult for 2 years, and then he will mature.

For 2 years, he:

Barked.

Dug holes.

Ate socks, shoes, hats, belts, sneakers, & toys.

Ate phones, books, & furniture.

Ate through the pantry wall.

He annoyed my neighbor’s (soon to be business partner) dog, Bruno.

Bruno was a huge French Mastiff – think Hooch from Turner and Hooch, but bigger.

These dogs don’t typically socialize well with other dogs, and much prefer people.

Bruno was no exception, and when we took walks with both of them – Frank thought it was play time.

Bruno didn’t.

Now without trying to sound arrogant – Bruno absolutely loved me. When he would see me, he would run to me and he looked like a lion charging.

But then he would see Frank.

And his entire demeanor would change.

He would give me that look, as if he was saying “Does he really have to be here?”

This relationship was an important part of Frank’s life, because this is where he learned how to deal with other dogs.

In other words, he didn’t.

I continued counting the days until he turned 2, waiting for this miraculous change that I was expecting to occur.

Truth be told, I hated him.

I resented the damage he caused, the money it cost, the time it took to go to the vet to make sure that the items he ate weren’t going to kill him.

But each time he was fine.

At about the 2 ? year mark, I started to see a change in him.

More mature.

And I started to like him.

I didn’t love him, because I was still pissed off about the past, but I did like him.

And he began to take on some qualities that I admired.

He was big, strong, and smart. 

Smartest dog I ever owned, actually.

Was easily the “Alpha” dog wherever he went.

Walked with confidence.

One bite from his strong jaw could kill you.

Didn’t care what others thought of him.

If another dog wanted his toy, he gave it to him.

If a dog wanted to go through the door first, he let them through.

There were two things that were important to Frank, and 2 things only:

Eating and going in the pool.

Moving to Florida was the perfect place for him.

He liked to get up early.

He liked his routine, which consisted of being fed, going for a walk, and taking a dip in the pool – all before 9am.

Now despite having all of these great qualities, I would be remiss in not pointing out the things that people questioned our parenting / training methods.

For instance, he barked to wake us up at 6am for food.

He was relentless.

If a guest came over anytime after 2pm, he barked.

Why?

Because he was concerned that it would interfere with his dinner time at 6pm.

And he didn’t care who you were. 

You got the same treatment whether he knew you, or didn’t.

Just the same with his greetings.

If you were a man, you could expect his extra large head absolutely crushing your balls with a head butt.

That was just to say hello.

If you were a female and thought you were exempt?

Not a chance.

You could expect a quick dip of his head to raise up your dress and grab a sniff.

I have apologized more than any human being ever has, past or present,  for his embarrassing behavior.

He had other odd behaviors.

He only walked on the white lines while crossing the street.

He didn’t like to lick your face, unless you had food on it.

He didn’t want you to touch him, unless it was a very deep massage on his back.

He didn’t like to be pet on his head. WHAT DOG DOESN’T LIKE TO BE PET ON HIS HEAD??????

He thought it was a scam to make him forget his mealtime, which I can confidently say never ever happened in his 12 years on this earth.

When he got frustrated with us, he would run away from our house.

Never very far though.

He would head over to my neighbor’s house 2 doors down to visit the Gonzalez family.

He would greet Andres with a grave and painful head to the balls, and then be fed by Helena who affectionately called him “Francisco Alejandro”.

He would then be showered with love and kisses by his 2 best human friends – Valentina and Angel.

Valentina especially, taught me to see through his faults.

When he would bark, she would blame “Miss Jessica” (My wife) for not feeding him enough.

If I told her he stole food from someone, she tells me we should feed him more.

If he escaped to visit her, she said we weren’t giving him enough attention.

It was after that when I realized that even though I say I hated him, and now liked him – that I actually always loved him.

So much so that I wrote a TV Pilot and I titled it “Frank and Bruno” – even though the dogs have a small part in the overall story.

It was my way of providing a tribute to 2 great dogs.

The problem is that part of having a successful TV Pilot or Screenplay, is to be able to tell the story within the title.

I have entered this pilot in many contests, and have done quite well despite this glaring issue.

However, on most of the feedback it was suggested that I change the title.

So far, I have refused.

I have said that once Frank passes on, that I would consider it. 

Sort of like when Michael Corleone refuses to kill Fredo until after his mother dies.

Our family certainly had fun with him though.

He used to do what we called “Crazy Kangaroo” when he would run back and forth like crazy in a small area – and you needed to be out of the way because he would absolutely run you over.

When the kids were young, we used to play what we called “Tushy” – where we would chase the kids up the stairs and try to grab their butts before they made it to the top.

Frank absolutely loved this game. He would grab his stuffed animal at the time, and race to the top before one of us grabbed him.

He was also like a stealth ninja. When people came over to eat, he would quietly sit and wait for the right moment when they turned away, so he could EVER SO QUITELY steal their food – and not realize it until they turned their heads back around.

He would get up and “dance” with my mother in law, but just long enough that he could grab the sandwich out of her hand.

4 years ago, we adopted Scout – our Boxer.

Frank never really warned up to her, likely because when she was a puppy she ran under his legs and bit his penis – Very hard.

I’m not sure I would get over that either.

But Scout worshipped the ground Frank walked on.

Scout followed Frank everywhere, did everything he did, and protected him from other dogs while walking down the street.

She was like his personal bodyguard.

It was why a few months ago when we discovered Frank had a tumor, that my immediate concern turned towards Scout. I wasn’t sure how Scout was going to react to Frank being sick.

I knew that despite Frank living through everything he has eaten – chocolate cake, remote controls, etc – that this was going to be tough to beat.

I knew that the great Vets and Techs at the Coral Springs Pet Resort and Medical Center were going to have their hands full with Frank.

They loved him, despite having to place locks on all of their food supply because Frank once sneaked away from them and he opened all of the food canisters. 

I recently watched “Kingdom” on Netflix, and something resonated with me regarding Frank as he was about to battle his cancer.

One of the greatest lines ever written for a TV Show was at the end of Season 1, Episode 10.

The character Alvey Kulina, former MMA fighter and current gym owner says:

“Most Guys Run from Fights.

Because they don’t want the answer to the inevitable question, that every man whispers to himself……

 Am I one of the weak?

Or am I one of the strong?”

You Frank, were one of the strong.

After one of Frank’s chemo treatments, he was laying down in the dining room. 

Scout came up to us, and was making a strange sound.

 “Is it Frank”?, I asked.

And she stopped.

We walked over to Frank, and he was in a bit of duress.

I know it was her telling us about her beloved Frank.

My wife and I agreed that once Frank stopped doing the things he loved, that “it was time.”

He stopped going into the pool.

His back legs started to give out on him.

He stopped asking for his meals, and we had to hand feed it to him.

On Friday, he licked my face - something he hadn’t done in 12 years - and looked at me as if to say “It’s ok, I’m ready”.

On Saturday, he wouldn’t eat. Not even eggs, which was his favorite meal.

And he peed on the floor, which is something he hasn’t done since the first 2 weeks we had him.

And we knew it was time.

As the kids said their goodbye’s and cried, hard - I prayed.

I prayed that he knew that I loved him very much.

And he finally let Jess pet his head, as she said goodbye to him.

She told him to “Go bother Bruno in Heaven”, as he peacefully went to sleep for the final time.

When he used to bark in excess, I used to say to him “Frank, one day I will miss your barking – but today is not that day”.

Well Frank, my buddy, my pal, my best friend  – Today is that day.

Rest in peace my sweet boy.