Meet Frankie.

WE ARE AT CUTE-CON 1. DEF-CUTE 1? EITHER WAY SHE’S SO CUTE.

Did you die after seeing that? Perhaps by SQUEEing so hard that you popped a vessel? Some people simply expire after looking upon Frankie’s adorable visage. In fact, I suspect that she is some type of dog medusa that melts peoples hearts instead of turning them to stone. Instead of snakes for hair she has fuzzy lil earflaps. Instead of a sword she has a swishy swooshy tail. I know, I know. It’s groundbreaking and controversial to say, IN PUBLIC ESPECIALLY, that puppies are cute—but Frankie really stands out amongst the hoi polloi.

HOW CUTE BE SHE? LET ME COUNT THE WAYS:

She is a Labrador puppy
- Just a GREAT place to start in the cuteness department
Solid head tilt
- Most important quality of a lab puppy IMHO
Teensy lil white socks on her paws
- Not sure why a dog needs socks, but she’s got ‘em and they’re magnificent
Slightly brindled coat
- Hard to see in this picture, but it adds a splendid mahogany
  contrast to her otherwise jet black “goth” look
Extremely soft nose
- Guys, her nose is just so DAMN SOFT
She is very chill and independent
- She is just as much at home sitting and cuddling on a landing as she is sniffing the trunk of a tree, and that’s just adorable
SO WELL BEHAVED
- She loves to sit, she doesn’t bark, she scoots right back into her crate and criss-crosses her paws, she can almost sorta do “shake” if you consider “shake” to be licking my hand and then falling over

For me, that last category is really the big winner for Frankie. She is the most well behaved and chill puppy I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. Most young doggos are absolute SPASTICS. They’re eating trash. They’re jumping up on strangers. They’re attempting to get in strollers and kick out the baby in an attempt to gain the love and food of an additional family. Ya know, just generally losing their shit at being ALIVE, BABY.

And I get it. The world is full of fun things like wind, squirrels, and food wrappers BUT CAN YOU ALL JUST CHILL FOR A SECOND THE LEASH IS WRAPPED AROUND MY LEGS AND NOW I’VE FALLEN. Frankie is not like this however. Frankie is a warm cup of tea on a rainy day. Frankie is a windchime slowly ringing in the breeze. Frankie is a muscle relaxer and a glass of wine. Frankie is CHILLLLLL. She goes with the flow and it’s frankly (get it?), very refreshing.

Upon meeting her for the first time, she was super loving and yet demure. Sort of like what I imagine Audrey Hepburn would have been like if she was a Labrador puppy. Also like Audrey Hepburn, she didn’t jump up on my legs and start gnawing on my kneecap but rather just gently licked my hand. Too weird? No matter.

Our first walk was swell, she kept up with me perfectly and with some light leash adjustments, we scampered along like two professionals. She’s also totally willing to stop and just hang out for a while. Perhaps most importantly, if you EVEN LIGHTLY start scritching her side she dutifully flops over and GOES IN for bellyrubs. In fact, if I hadn’t encouraged her to get back up on all fours, we’d probably still be there on the pavement. She’s great at going back home too. She doesn’t run ahead or freak out or anything, and once we’re back in her place she saunters over to her crate and jumps in without much provocation. It’s amazing. She deserves each and every treat she gets.

Frankie basically exhibits all characteristics of an old salty veteran doggo in the body of a spry youthful pupper. It’s amazing. Here’s to you Frankie!

—Sean

We're back! After a long hiatus! A long unexpected hiatus! Partly due to being unable to log in to Squarespace the last week, and partly due to a busier than usual schedule! But that's not important now, we have returned. I suppose I could have just made a claim that we had planned on taking a break until the summer solstice and then retroactively edited our last post to reflect that, but that wouldn't be honest would it? And when you're in the dog business, you need to be honest above all else. 'Cause the puppers can tell when you're lying. And they DO NOT like it and THEY WILL bite your feet as punishment.

I digress. Here is Otis:

Otis is a black lab puppy, obviously. He is also, as I believe I've mentioned before, a being of pure light and joy. I don't have to tell you guys how awesome puppies are, but a black lab puppy is a special kind of awesome. I mean, lookit that tail! Waggin' away! A veritable blur of excited puppymotion! And those puppydog eyes! I gave him my watch right after the above picture was taken! He didn't even ask for it!

In reality, after the above picture was taken Otis likely leapt at my shins, slid down them like a fireman, and began attacking my shoes and their laces. You see, Otis is teething, which means everything is a target for his nascent chompers. Things Otis has chewed on since I've been walking him:

My hands. I swear to god, my hands must taste like ambrosia to the wee Otis, because he takes every opportunity to envelop my fingers/palm with his teeny lil jaws and just GNAW on them. He does have that so called "soft mouth" common to retrievers—or at least he has the notion that he should treat things in his mouth with a certain softness—so his bites are more like gentle gum smotherings punctuated by shards of pearly enamel. He has the coordination of a nearsighted middle schooler, so it's not difficult to get away from him, so the whole thing turns out to be very cute.
His leash. Otis's second favorite thing to chew on. I totally understand this tendency, because if my mouth was full of dental stalagmites incrementally puuuuushing their way through my soft tissue I would also enjoy chewing on woven nylon. In fact, I suppose if you asked my parents, I probably did enjoy chewing on woven nylon when I was teething. However, as a baby boy I was blessedly unleashed whereas Otis finds himself lassoed by his own chew toy, leading to hilarious slapstick routines where Otis stares down his leash, jumps at it, pulls at it with his mouth, and subsequently topples over in a way that spits in the face of my understanding of spinal structure.
Leaves. This is probably tied with the leash in the chewing hierarchy. Otis loves leaves. Or maybe he hates them and is trying to kill them with his gnashing teeth? Either way, he attempts to chew on every single one that we come across. I sort of wish it were autumn so I could see his wee brain meltdown at the sheer abundance of leaves. Oh man, a black lab puppy jumping in and out of piles of crunchy leaves, twisting and turning with absolute delight? Be still my heart. Perhaps I can stunt his growth so he doesn't grow until September? Just start feeding him coffee and giving him Marlboros? Probably a bad idea.
Other people's hands/belts/bags/clothing. This one is a bit problematic. Everyone in the universe wants to pet Otis, because he is a puppy. However, Otis wants to chew on everything in the universe. Thus, when a gaggle of kindergartners approach from the west with puppylove in their eyes, I must remain alert. For Otis will pounce upon them, covering them with puppylicks at first, but then perhaps tossing in a quick gnaw of one of the toddler's ring fingers. In my mind, this will directly result in a lawsuit, and we all know Otis doesn't have any money.
His actual chew toys. This is definitely at the bottom of the list. He shows little interest in the objects that were designed for his teeth to be embedded in. Why chew on a thick, knotted rope when you can attempt to separate Sean's distal phalanges from the rest of his hand? Why chew on a piece of rigid, yet flexible rubber when I can gleefully attack the straps on Sean's backpack? Why would you EVER chew on a piece of rawhide when you can wrap your teeth around Sean's keys? And so on.

Sometimes Otis does use his chewing for good. Like when he eats. MY GOD does he like to eat. From the second I walk in in the morning and let Otis out of his crate, he dives at my ankles and jumps at my knees eagerly awaiting his vittles. I dutifully retrieve (ha) his bowl of food, put a bit of water in it to soften up the food for his wittle mouth—although he does try to chew on MY KEYS so who knows—and then attempt to place the bowl on the floor. I try to keep Otis away from the bowl as I set it down, so he doesn't knock his head into the bottom of it and send it flying. I'm often successful. He then devours the softened wet dry food like a fuzzy black vacuum cleaner. In this state, his is ignorant of all other things happening around him. I could start firing a flare gun in the living room while reciting Alec Baldwin's monologue from Glengary Glen Ross through a megaphone and he would just solemnly continue wolfing down his food. It's amazing.

Otis getting ready for his first day of schooooooooool!

The above picture is what happens when I put my fannypack on Otis's back so that he can have a backpack for his first day of dog school. I think it was like 95 degrees that day, so I may have been suffering from mild heatstroke. It was an adorable hyperthermic mania though! In summation, Otis is a being of pure light and joy (and teeth) and he makes me and everyone he meets feel better about their lives. Not bad for a scraggly ball of fur. Here's to you Otis!

Sean

Pet Sitting & Dog Walking

Doggy Blog

Frankie Goes to Hollywood (Avenue)

HOW CUTE BE SHE? LET ME COUNT THE WAYS:

Sit On A Potato Pan, Otis