This story is my entry for the #kbcPetUntrouble Contest.
I come from a dog crazy family, where having two dogs around you all the time was the norm. For a brief period, when I was around 12, we had only one dog and me and my elder sister drove my mother crazy with our constant “We’ll do anything mumma, just get us another dog”. The problem here was that, in our dog crazy family there was my father who, I wouldn’t say hated dogs (I don’t believe anyone can hate dogs), but he didn’t particularly like them!
One day, when we came back from school, we saw this tiny black, mouse like creature in a cardboard box (that he chewed his way out of that very night). My mom had adopted a Black and Tan Dachshund, and my dad was quite mad about it. It helped that he served in the merchant navy, and wouldn’t be around for half the year, so we explained to him that he wouldn’t have to tolerate Frisky (the dog was named frisky because he wouldn’t sit in one place!) for too long. Dad was pacified. So were we. We thought Frisky would be like our other dogs who knew which family members were dog lovers and which ones were best avoided.
Frisky turned out to be nothing like the other dogs we had. On his fourth day home, the tiny dog decided to go out and conquer the world. And so he barged into our neighbor’s house, scaring their poor 3 year old Labrador with his aggressive barking. However, once the two dogs had amicably decided that Frisky was the stronger one (!) they became inseparable, and soon there was a gang of a Labrador, Dachshund and Doberman in our neighborhood (and if you are familiar with dog breeds and their sizes, you would know why this made everyone chuckle!). So, clearly Frisky was not scared of anybody. But, what did this mean for his relationship with dad? Was he going to be as aggressive with him?
Dad returned from his stint on the ship after 8 months. Before any of us could get to him or hug him, the tiny doggy (who felt ignored because of his height, and had climbed up on the bed) had climbed all over him, licked him, done a little dance for him, and basically told him loudly in doggy language that he had been missed big time. This melted my dad’s heart (ALL our previous dogs had avoided him and usually didn’t move an inch when he returned from the ship!).
Frisky was the only dog in our long history of dogs, who wiggled his way into dad’s heart and then ultimately into his bed (he slept with him in his final years after I moved away from the city). He’s the only dog I’ve seen my dad pet, and the only dog whose photos are framed and displayed all over our house. My dad has gone back to his non-dog loving ways (he lectured me recently seeing a photo of me kissing my pet dog!) but I’ve often caught him staring and smiling at Frisky’s photos.
