frankieblogFrankie Reese 2001 – Feb 27, 2014

Yesterday, John and I made the very difficult decision to put our beloved little dog Frankie to rest. During the past couple of years, Frankie had been dealing with many medical issues and we were able to treat him and keep him comfy and happy for quite a while. However, in the past week and a half, his health and quality of life seemed to decline rapidly and we felt that, as painful as it would be to lose him, we needed to let him go.

I first laid eyes on Frankie in kennels of the Marin Humane Society Vet Clinic. He was just an adorable pup, about 6 or 7 months old awaiting his neuter surgery. I couldn’t wrap by brain around how darn cute he was. It was an impulse adoption I must admit and even after a less-than -encouraging pre-adopt consult with Trish King, we took him home anyway.

Little did we know what naughty antics lurked beneath those sweet little puppy dog eyes. As many of you know, Frankie loved to bark. His bellows would echo ear-piercingly through the hallways of the shelter. We tried many things to cure him of this habit. But even giving him a tennis ball to hold in his mouth (he was obsessed with tennis balls) Frankie somehow found a way to clench that ball in his jaws while barking at the same time (it was quite impressive, actually). Frankie taught both John and I the valuable lesson that some behaviors can only be managed, not cured.

Frankie had a zest for life. He loved to hike, camp, squeak toys and chase balls. But mostly he just loved to run: on the beach, across the expansive lawn at the shelter, anywhere and as far as his short little legs would take him. And while he ran he would announce himself in celebration by (of course) barking!

Saying goodbye is hard and we will miss his big-dog personality that seemed to fill every corner of our house, the shelter, and of course our hearts.

As we left the shelter without him, a beautiful , low-arching rainbow stretched over the horizon. I imagined that Frankie, finally freed from his tired little achy body, was now sprinting along its colorful lanes, barking jubilantly (of course) all the way home.

Goodbye little black and white dog, little Frank the dog, Frankenstein, Frankfurter, Francis Scott Reese. We will never forget you.

Andrea Reese is a veterinary technician for the Marin Humane Society Veterinary Clinic.