Oh how my son wanted a pug to name Frank after seeing Men in Black.  He talked about that constantly.  This was in 1997.  In 2000, we finally relented.  My son was turning 15 and someone had pug puppies for sale in the local paper.  Welcome to the family!  Frank was so tiny.  He would fit in the palm of one hand.

And he was sick. Very sick.  We did not buy him from a true dog breeder.  He was full of fleas and sick.  We almost lost our newest family member.  But thank God for vets.

Then Frank grew a nose.  What?  He was supposed to be a pug!  He had bulgy pug eyes, the curly pug tail, an adorable pug personality.  But where did the nose come from?  Oh well, something else was in the woodpile, but we loved Frank no matter what.  Who cares if our pug was a faux pug.

Like all 15 year old kids, my son’s attention span was everywhere besides Frank.  So Frank decided I was his person.  He was my constant companion, my shadow, my confidante.  If I sat, he had to be touching me.  When we lay down to go to bed he had to be touching me.  I carried Frank everywhere.  A friend jokingly said the little succor had no legs.

One day, as was usual in my house, my children had many friends over.  Three times I found either the front door or back door open and all of our dogs outside.  Three times I fussed at all the teens for leaving the doors open.  They swore up and down they didn’t.  I said, well who did, the Holy Ghost?  Who could have known Frank the Faux Pug was the Holy Ghost.  I walked into the foyer to find Frank standing on two legs and repeatedly hitting the door handle with his two front paws until the door opened – and out ran all the dogs.  Well now this became true entertainment.  Every party we held, Frank the Faux Pug had to show everyone his trick.

Frank had another trick.  I would say ‘catch your tail.’  He would glance backwards to see if his tail was watching.  If he thought it was watching, he quickly turned away.  When he thought the coast was clear, and that his tail had no idea he was coming after it, Frank would start spinning like a top.  He thought he was as sly as a fox, but he never caught that tail.

While recovering from bilateral total knee replacement starting in October 2014, I was on short term disability for 3 months.  My only job was to focus on recovery.  Frank’s only job was to be my constant companion. He cuddled me every time I cried out in pain.  I swear he cheered me on through physical therapy.  He rested when I rested.  Frank did his job well.

We held Frank’s funeral at dusk today.  He crossed the rainbow bridge at 16.5 years of age.  My two oldest grandchildren, 12 and 10, made no attempt at hiding their tears as we walked from the house to Frank’s final resting place by the blueberry bush.  Frank was their best friend.  They knew Frank their entire little lives.  Me, the grands and my son stood in a circle and cried, while Paw Paw buried his little buddy with tears in his eyes.

Frank will rest peacefully on Spooky Hollow ground, along with Furry Murray the Donkey, Precious the Yorkie, and a scattering of chickens.

Rest in peace Frank my Faux Pug.  Your person misses you more than you could ever know.