Frankie

One day in mid-January 2004 I was at work and my cell phone rang.  We have a policy of not using our phones at work, particularly out at a client, but since I knew I Billy was returning to Natchez from Arkansas that day I glanced at it anyway, just to make sure he wasn't calling with car trouble or changes to his schedule.    And yes, it was him calling.  I answered it up because he never calls work unless there is something he really needs.

From the time I answered I could hear in his voice he was "shook", to use one of my dad's terms.  He was apologizing and saying he no other choice; he knew it was a bad time of year for me but he just had to do it.

I was getting nervous.

You see, he had picked up a puppy.

As he was coming through Lake Providence, Louisiana, right at the town's edge at the railroad tracks, he saw what looked like a dead animal in the road.  Since we don't hit an animal in the road, living or dead, he pulled the van into the left lane to go around, and then he saw it.

She wasn't dead, but instead dragging herself by her front paws trying to get out of the road.

He pulled over immediately and ran back to help her.  She had been hit by a car, obviously, but there was not car in sight.  The driver hadn't stopped.  He could see a couple of bigger dogs with two or three little pups following them that looked just like her running across a field.  Her family, probably. There was also a store in a little pink building, a fish market maybe?, and he said there were several people standing around in front of it.  Not a one of them had even taken a step in her direction to try and help her.  No one waved a hand at him as he was driving to get his attention to make sure he didn't hit her.

They just stood there.

I can still hear his words in my head.  "I had two choices, honey.  I could either pick her up and bring her to you or I could go over there and beat the BLEEP out of them for just standing there."  I told him he chose wisely and we would do what we could.  And I asked if he thought she could make the still two-plus hour drive to Natchez.  He thought so.  She was bloody but that mostly looked like it was from her paws where she was dragging herself on the asphalt.

I called our local vet and got one of the last appointments that day, finished my work and went home to change out of my work clothes and to see after the two we had at the time, Christy and Midnight, and then waited on Billy to get there.    When he did I headed straight out to the van, not even giving him time to get out.

What I saw was a dog unlike anything I'd ever seen before.  She was gray with black dots on part of her body but her face was kind of white and tan and her tail was bushy but not a ringtail like Christy had.  I didn't know what she was.

Dr. Gregg looked her over, took x-rays, and told us her pelvis was fractured but there didn't appear to be any internal damage to her organs.  He gave us three options.  First, because she was just a stray that we were not invested in (he didn't really know us that well back then - we get invested from the moment we see them) he could euthanize her; second, if we were invested in her he could do surgery to repair the fractures; or three, because she was so young that her bones had not fully hardened yet and we could try to keep her crated and quiet and see if they would heal on their own.  If they didn't heal properly then we could do surgery later.

We voted for option three.  (It is wasn't long after that when I explained our philosophy that going forward he should not offer us any options that he would not want his pediatrician to recommend to him for his children i.e. euthanasia) 

As we talked to Dr. Gregg I asked what she was and he said she looked like a pure Catahoula Cur, also known as a Catahoula Leopard Dog, and the State Dog for Louisiana.  He asked us what we were going to name her since we were obviously going to keep her and I asked for a few suggestions.  He said he knew a lot of Catahoulas named Merle since that is what their coloring is called.  I decided, though, to focus on those beautiful blue eyes of hers and named her Frankie, after one of my favorites, Old Blue Eyes himself, Frank Sinatra.

We had never crated a dog before but I had large one that I had used when Christy and Stormy were in obedience training.  (I had to have a place to keep one while working with the other since their classes were back-to-back.)  I thought it would do so we brought it out and dusted it off and tried to get her settled in her new home.  It wasn't too hard at first.  The crate was a good size and she couldn't move a lot anyway so she got used to being in there to eat and sleep.  Taking her outside, though, was another story.  There is a lot more room in the front and side of our house than in the back so I would carry her out front whenever Billy let the other two at back.  Of course the challenge was how to support her back half so she could do what she needed and that was when I came up with old pantyhose.  I could slide the legs around her and use those to hold her up.  Since they stretched, I didn't have to walk all leaned over.  And it worked well.   She loved her freedom from the crate and would try to cover as much ground as she could on those two front legs!  I remember thinking one morning as I had crazy bed hair and my bathrobe was flying as I tried to keep up with her that the Natchez Garden District was going to wonder who they had allowed to move in downtown and escort us back to the Mississippi River Bridge!  As her bones healed and her mobility increased keeping her in the crate all day got harder and harder.  She could see Christy and Midnight having the run of the house and she got to where she wanted it, too.  Now, at this point Christy was thirteen and a half years old and Midnight was probably eight-ish so there wasn't a lot of running around the house, more like just hanging out all day.

Eventually, we were convinced that she was healed and it didn't take long before the crate was folded back up and stored away.  Even if she wasn't completely healed, we weren't getting her to stay in the crate so she basically forced our hand.  It seemed like every day when I came home from work you could see she had grown from that very morning.  She was healthy and happy and showed no signs she'd ever had a problem with her legs.

One of my fondest memories was not long after we let her of the crate to be one of the Girls.  Our house is a Victorian and from the front door you are looking down the center hallway all the way to the back door - straight shot.  It also has original hardwood floors.  One day I came home from work and Frankie popped her head out of the kitchen at the back of the house when she heard the door and came running at me up that hallway.  She realized too late, though, that she needed to stop and all of the sudden all four feet went out from under her and all four legs were splayed out!  Eyes wide!  And she slid to stop just inches away.  And she jumped up and ran all over, so excited to see me!  I realized in that moment just how much I had missed that.  Of course Christy and Midnight missed me during the day and were happy to see me come home, but Christy was going deaf and sometimes didn't realize I was there until she saw me.  And Midnight was never our most social soul.  She preferred to stay under the stairs or in a closet.  That is where she felt the most comfortable.  Their expressions of "happy you're home, Mom!' were a bit more subdued.

But that pure, unadulterated joy on Frankie's face was something to behold.  She was glad to see me and letting me know it!  She made my heart smile!

Those first few months were trying for our Girls.  Frankie wanted to play and Christy and Midnight did not.  Their days of running and chasing balls and such were behind them.  One Saturday morning I was in the kitchen and the three Girls were out in the backyard.  Frankie came bursting through the door with a smile as wide as all of Montana spread across her face and blood running down one side of it.  We scooped her up and headed straight for Dr. Gregg's office.  He cleaned her up and looked her over and then smiled a bit at us.  "You see that little mark on her ear?  I'd bet you anything that is a little Pomeranian nip."

Yep.  Christy had let her know in no uncertain terms that she didn't care how cute Frankie was or how happy her running around made Mom and Dad feel, she, Christy, was still the Queen Bee and Frankie needed to understand that and get used to it.

Not long after that we had Frankie out on walk, trying to burn through some energy, I'm sure, and when we got back I saw something sticking out from underneath one of Frankie's back paws.  It just looked like a leaf to me so I start tugging on it to get it off and she snatched and foot and started limping to get away.  Once again, it was off to Dr. Gregg's office.  I learned something that day - dogs can slip their pads on their paws, and she had done it.  (Never had a dog before or since that has ever done that, and we have raised, to date, 14.)   So we took her home and Billy carried her up the stairs and placed her on the bed.  She milked that hurt paw for weeks!  Billy would carry her down for breakfast and to go out and then carry her back up again.

October 2004 saw the addition of Patches (about 4 months old) to our family and March 2005 added Maggie (around 7 months old.)  Frankie could not have been happier to have playmates!  So yes, we added three puppies in about a year's time but that was good.  The Three Amigos, as called them, loved each other and played together and, for the most part, ignored Christy and Midnight which was fine with them.

Christy left us in October 2005 and left the leadership reins to Frankie.  Again, Midnight didn't really have much to do with anyone so she was fine with it. 

Frankie saw the additions of Scooter and Sadie in 2007, Riley in 2008, Doozer in 2010, Gabby in 2012, Micky in 2015, and Spencer in 2017.  (Hence the new phrase the Tanksley Thundering Herd) Frankie welcomed them all, and usually let them know very quickly that she was the Queen Bee now and they needed to understand their place.  With her, though, no nipping, only warning barks.  She took great pleasure in letting everyone else finish their meals and then eating hers right in front of them, barking every few bites to tell them to back off, there would be no leftovers.

As much as she loved everyone, sometimes you could just tell she wished she had had the chance to be an only child.

Frankie left us July 13, 2019.  She was reunited with her other Amigos (Patches left in 2015 and Maggie in 2017).    She once again saw Christy and Midnight and Riley and Scooter, whom she had lived with, as well as Stormy and Molly that were part of the Girls before Frankie came along.

She was blessed to just pass of old age.  She had had a couple of fatty tumors that she carried around for over ten years.  She had worked through kidney disease where sometimes she would only eat if Billy or I handfed her. But after almost sixteen years her little body just gave out.

She held court over her "subjects" from the center of our king-sized bed and, later when she could no longer jump up that high, from a couch in our bedroom.

She was Riley's buddy and would stay with him in the bedroom so he wouldn't be alone while everyone else was out running around.  She could de-squeak any dog toy in no time flat and typically never disturbed the stuffing in the process.  Even the toughest line of toys were no match for her.

She was our sweetheart, our Princess.

We both still look for her on her bed in the bedroom every time we walk in.  I keep looking for her Phantom-of-the-Opera masked face to peek around a corner.  We are struggling to stop at five when we take our headcount each night.  Those last few days were all about her.  She had grown very finicky in the last few months and what she would eat one day she wouldn't the next.  We would cook hamburgers, hot dogs, smoked sausages and she might take a bite and then come stare in my eyes like she was starving, begging to be fed,  for a bite of my string cheese.   We would get excited that a hamburger had worked one day and then dejected the next would should wouldn't even sniff one.  We even got to the point where we went the cat food route because I had always heard that the stinkier the better if you're trying to get them to eat.  We bought Ensure and baby food and I fed her with a syringe.  You know in your heart of hearts that you are reaching the end, but I kept wanting to feed her just in case.  Maybe her tummy was just upset and she'd start eating tomorrow?  I woke up once on that last Thursday night and saw Billy sleeping on the floor next to her.  On Friday night, I did the same.  We had tried to get her to go out Friday afternoon, me supporting her back half with a robe belt - similar to how I had all those years ago - but she wasn't walking well at that point.  Saturday morning I stayed on the floor next to her.  We had the room dark and cool.  And we waited. It's a tough thing, waiting on a loved one to pass. I watched her breathe.  I stroked her side and whispered in her ear that it was okay to go.  I promised her that I would take care of her daddy, and he would take care of everyone else.  And we waited.  All of our other Herd members were laying around the room and were totally silent and still. 

At 10:10 that Saturday morning she breathed her last.  I kept thinking that maybe I was feeling a faint heartbeat, but it was only my own pulse from pressing so hard, wanting so desperately to be wrong.

She was gone.

Like the others, she has been cremated.  Billy picked her up this past Friday and brought her home and handed her to me.  Just like he had over 15 years ago.  Only this time instead of being wrapped in towels she was covered with purple paper and tucked into a small treasure chest.  Fitting for one that brought so many riches and such joy into our lives.

We love you, Frankie Girl!  And we miss you.  Fly high and free.

A Book Review

My mom recommended this book to me a year or so ago.  It is unusual for Mom to do this so when she did, I bought the book and put it in my stack of To Reads.



I finished it last night and wanted to bring it to your attention.



Everyone remembers where they were on September 11, 2001.  That is one of my generation's defining moments.   Most of us spent the day in front of televisions or the Internet watching the replays of the Towers and Pentagon being hit and the Towers subsequently falling.  We remember the images of President George W. Bush being interrupted as he was reading to a group of school children in Florida.  You could see his face change as an aide whispered in his ear what was happening, him processing and deciding how to handle this.  We saw survivors making their way down Manhattan streets choked with smoke and ash; first responders trying to lead them to safety as their brothers in arms ran into the burning buildings. 



We cried.



United States airspace was almost immediately closed to all traffic.  All planes in the air had to land at the closest viable airport.  For 38 planes on their way from various European locations Gander, Newfoundland was that spot.



In all honesty, I had never really thought about the planes that were on their way but not yet in US airspace.  But for the folks of Gander, it was a very big deal.



The population of Gander at the time was less than 10,000 and those 38 transatlantic jets brought in 7,000 more folks.  Folks for which there was no room.



This book is small, only about 250 pages, but it is filled with stories of what Gander and a few other surrounding towns did for these "Plane People", as they called them.  Shelters sprung up in churches and lodges and schools.  Locals took people into their homes to allow them to shower or find a quiet, peaceful place to rest a bit.  Volunteers set up phone banks and food banks.  Stores opened their doors to whatever the folks needed (the passengers, when they finally were able to deplane - late that Tuesday night or sometime on Wednesday - could only have whatever luggage they carried on with them, no checked bags.)   Pharmacies began trying to find needed medications and gathering toiletries and such from their stocks.  A vet and vet techs volunteered to care for the animals aboard the planes at no cost to any of the passengers (Canadian regulations prohibited the animals leaving the airport).



As you go through the pages, you see such a glimmer of humanity that is so very hard to find these days.  No, not a glimmer but a shining beacon.  A beacon that I wish we could see more often.



It was 126 hours from the first plane landing until the last plane left on the Sunday after the tragedy and during that time "families" were formed.  Lasting friendships.  Amid such devastation came such caring for strangers.



It isn't the only story I know where homes and businesses were open to those in need.  Billy and I were on vacation when Hurricane Katrina hit the Mississippi Gulf Coast and New Orleans.  As people evacuated, and more so after the storm and there were no longer places for them to live, Natchez, a town of less than 18,000, became a haven much like Gander.  Shelters sprung up in churches and lodges.  Friends and coworkers of mine opened their homes to those needing a place to sleep.  The Red Cross showed up with basic supplies for the displaced.  Radio stations held drives for toiletries to make hygiene bags for those in the shelters.  So, while I wasn't there for the initial influx of folks, I saw the aftermath of good people helping others every single day.



Maybe it is just how small towns react to adversity.



Unlike Gander, many of the people that came to Natchez stayed for a while.  They had lost their homes and businesses and had no real reason to return.  They gave back to the community that had taken them in by opening new retail stores, restaurants, or doctor's offices.  Katrina had given them a fresh start.  Everyone that had been detoured in Gander left, but many of them returned the kindnesses they had been shown.  Some passengers were involved with a charitable foundation and donated grant monies for the school district to purchase new computer equipment and donations to local charities and churches.   The passengers of one plane passed the hat as they were finally able to leave and continue their journey to Atlanta and collected over $15,000.



At a time when the world was facing pure Evil, unsure of the who, what or why, Gander showed that there was a place that Evil had not yet reached. 



Reading it made my heart smile.



(Now, if you look at the Amazon reviews you will see a several that kind of bash on the author a bit.  They could dissuade you from trying the book.  True, I also found typos and questionable uses of grammar but to focus on that is to truly miss the message of the book.  Did the author need a better proofer, absolutely, but that shouldn't factor into the decision to check it out.)