My best friend Frankie

Michelle and I were in Morgantown on a Saturday in November, 2013, and planning on grabbing food and getting into something. She mentioned to me how the pet store was having an adoption day with Pet Helpers. She had shown me these two little dog brothers online. Light brown puppies with big ears and noses. One had an ear that wouldn't stand up, and the smaller one had two huge ears and a little underbite. We had joked about adopting the little fella with the crooked ear... Until we saw his little brother with the underbite. He was scared and really shy. Nobody was paying attention to him, and didn't seem to even care about him. He looked so scared and helpless. I guess we felt like we wanted to rescue him. He had been neglected and found covered in fleas, with zero human interaction. He was tiny. Almost like a baby deer without the spots. We had only just gotten engaged a few weeks earlier, and we made the snap decision to adopt him. Our dinner plans were nixed, but we had a little pupper to take care of. On the way home, he was shaking in the car. We would go over bridges, and he would shake even harder. He's still not good with cars, four years later. The people that he met in his first few weeks are still in his inner circle of trust, but nobody else seems to ever make it in. He's weird, shy, nervous, and awkward, but he's the greatest little dog that I've ever known. Michelle and I literally flew to Portland so she could get a tattoo of him on her arm. He's our little Frankie Boy (Franklin, Frankdog, FrankFrank, Bubba, Bubby, Booby, BoobyBoy, BooBoo, and WeinerDog, as the dog-name evolutions happen), and I wouldn't trade him for the most noble of Golden Retrievers.