The Doggy Is a Woose!

by Brenda J. Christie

FrankieBean

Of course I'm not talking about Jakk.  The title refers to his archenemy, Frankie.

You may remember him from my post on Doggy Sibling Rivalry.  That's the piece in which I tell how Frankie propelled himself off a chair to squash Jakk who was walking on the floor below.

Anyway, Frankie's mission to get Jakk remains intact.  Earlier this year, he came charging down the stairs to greet me, and in the chaos/euphoria, Jakk, in true dog-pack style, went charging right behind him.  The only problem is Jakk has arthritis and can't navigate stairs well anymore.  So he just went thumping down all 16 of the stairs since the legs on a Puddin' Jack Russell don't bend very much.  I wasn't too happy with Frankie.

But, this post isn't about Frankie's misdeeds.  There are plenty of them. Instead, this post is about the Big Bad Frankie, and his lesser known side. Indeed, in true small dog fashion, Frankie will bark at any dog, large or small, that he sees.  I remember one instance in which I decided to take him for a long walk.  About 3 blocks from my house, I saw a woman who keeps a lovely garden of Irises.  So I smiled at her as we approached her.  Within a few feet, I saw the look of terror on her face, but not before Frankie saw her two 80 pound each pit bulls behind a gate, and yes, you guessed it, started to bark.

I can only imagine what the 2 mammoth dogs must have been thinking:  "Hell no, you didn't just bark at us you little dog!"  Whereupon, they just lunged their 160 pounds through the gate and came barrelling down the street.  I instinctively yanked Frankie up by his harness, turned my back on the death duo flyng down the street and put Frankie on top of a car.  Just knew I was going to die.

Within moments, the woman's husband came running out of the house to get the dogs.  At the same time, the owner of the vintage (albeit, raggedy) car starts screaming about his car.  Once the 2 maniac dogs were back in their owners' control, I apologized to the car owner while in my mind calling him an idiot, and Frankie and I made our way up the block (without any more barking) where I collapsed into a chair at the pharmacy.  Frankie was none the worse off.

Then there was the time, early in the morning, I took Jakk and Frankie out for their walk.  This woman engaged in a conversation on her cellphone while precariously holding the leash of her giant German Short-haired Pointer came walking towards me (a definite no-no in my neighborhood - but, she was new to the neighborhood).  True to his little dog breed, big mouth Frankie barked, and all bets were off. The larger dog yanked on the leash, and his inattentive owner dropped the leash and the dog came flying down the block.  Frankie lunged at its neck and in the mayhem, one of them wrapped the leash around my legs and I ended up on the ground, Bam! Jakk, who's the smarter of the two dogs, just went off and sat down and didn't move.  He must have been thinking "If I don't move, maybe they won't see me."  So the stupid woman comes running down the block to save her dog from getting its doggy butt whipped by a small dog.  Offers to help me up.  It took everything I had not to curse her out, but I just told her to take her dog and leave.  A good Samaritan who saw me sitting on the ground, helped me up, and, without finishing the walk, I limped back to my house.  I limped for a few weeks longer, because I ended up with a torn ligament.  But, Frankie was none the worse off.

By now you must be thinking Frankie is not a Woose.  But wait!  Let it be after sundown and he turns into a different dog.  Trying to take him out after sundown is a battle.  He'll see me with his leash and run the other way, jump on the bed and roll onto his back, run under his Arch Angel's legs for protection. It's like he starts singing Jennifer Holiday's "And I am telling you I'm not going..." (Frankie's point starts at 3 min 12 seconds of the video below)

The song continues as I lift his 40-50 pounds up and cart him down the street.  That's why he is a woose! Invariably, some unkind neighbor finds it convenient to light up a fire cracker, and again, all bets are off.  Those are usually the shortest walks, with me being the only one walking.

Bye for now,
Brenda J. Christie

Primo Donna O Mio

by Brenda J. Christie

We suspect Jakk may have dementia.  After all, it would be hard to think he does what he does deliberately.  Or could he?  You be the judge.

• Jakk will walk into corners and then seemingly, loose the ability to back-track to get out.  Instead, he will whine until someone rescues him.  Once out of harms way, he will make his way, somewhat like a compass, back to that same corner and repeat the whole thing over, and over and over.

• Jakk does not respect traffic signs.  The very last time I let him walk across the street, he found the yellow line and decided it was the perfect place for his constitutional.  The only problem, is that I live on a very busy, two-way avenue.  So I was forced to scoop him up, mid-constitutional, to avoid getting run over.

• After 16 years, Jakk has finally discovered the space under the bed.  On my first day of vacation (read sleep in, sleep late), Jakk, arthritis and all, managed to wedge himself under the bed, requiring both the mattress and box spring to be removed in order to free him.  This happened before my first cup of coffee, so I was not a happy camper, on top of not sleeping in. Once the box spring was removed, Jakk looked up at me with those doe eyes as if to say, "Miss me?"

Tell me your take on things by answering the "Is Jakk For Real Poll" above.