Andrew arrived home at 4 in the afternoon after picking up an abandoned puppy on his way home from work. He opened the door to the beautiful apartment he shared with his wife, Margaret, in central park west. The puppy, named Frankie by Andrew on the 15 minute drive home, ran directly at the sight of new people: Margaret and Gracie, their 3 week old daughter. Frankie jumped up on Margaret's legs excited to see what she was holding in her arms.
"Oh, oh, my god! Andrew…" Margaret whined in fear. She grasped onto her baby like this 12 inch tall dog was a face eating beast. "What is it!"
Andrew looked at her, trying not to laugh at her over reaction. "'It' is a yorkie, and 'it's' name is Frankie." He smiled, proud of his remark.
Margaret glared at him, "Come get 'Frankie' away from me…. Please."
Andrew, walking toward the threesome, picked up Frankie and carried him away. "I don't know why you're so terrified of him…. He's a foot tall, and weighs less than your purse."
"A: my purse is Gucci and deserves respect… B: that thing could scar my legs or hurt the baby." Margaret leaned down to kiss Gracie's forehead. Andrew could understand why Margaret was so protective of Gracie; it was Margaret's first baby and she was a natural mother. "I-I just don't think it can stay here."
Andrew bowed his head, dissappointed by what his wife's ideas were. "But-but…" Andrew protested… "Just think about it… Gracie could grow up with a companion, something to love and befriend until she starts school and meets new people. Face it; a lot of kids have pets, she's going to make a new friend with a pet and then despise us for not keeping little Frankie here."
Margaret looked at her husband trying to reason. She thought hard about what he'd said… she hated him for being right. "Okay, we'll try it out for a week, if 'Frankie' here os disrupitve and chews up even one of my shoes… I will have him removed in an instant."
Andrew leapt into the air 4 feet, trying to hide his excitement of course. He'd always been fond of animals, ever since he'd gotten his first hamster when he was 6, then a replacement hamster when Hammie died… then his 4 goldfish he'd gone through, and then Rex, his first long-lasting pet, which was a golden retriever, who lived 14 years, which was a respectably long life for a dog.
Later that night while the Paxton's ate the Apple and Pecan salad that Margaret had made for supper, Frankie got hungry, deciding he didn't like the Kibbles 'N Bits that Andrew had put down for him…. He jumped up in the empty seat next to Margaret.
"Andrew… sweet Andrew… What did you tell me after I agreed to let Frankie stay with us?"
Andrew racked his brain trying to think what he had said… "Thank you?"
"No, you did not, but that would have been nice… you said 'Oh, honey, I promise he'll be good. I'll keep him out of trouble."
"Okay, I may have said that… and…?"
"Andrew, where is your dog right now."
Andrew looked around the room, then noticed Frankie's eyes just over the edge of the kitchen table. "Oh, shii… Frankie! Frankie… bad dog." Frankie didn't respond, just proceeded to get his front legs on the table top.
Margaret glared at Andrew, "Well get him! Don't just yell at him… obviously that's not working."
Andrew jumped up and grabbed Frankie just as he was climbing the rest of the way on the table. He then put Frankie outside on the leash they put right outside the back door. "I'm sorry, honey, I'll train him as quick as I can… he'll be a changed dog by next month."
Margaret forgave it.
Two days later Frankie got a hold of Margaret's hairbrush and chewed it up to the point where the handle was hardly recognizable. Margaret walks in to her room and steps on it. "God dammit! ANDREW!"
"Give me a few more days; I'll get him to behave!"
Margaret forgave it.
A week later Margaret, walking down the hallway, notices the trail of toilet paper leading from the bathroom, to the baby's room, to the kitchen, to their room… "ANDREW!"
Andrew comes running down the hallway. "He's gotten better; this is just a small mishap."
Margaret shot a look at him… " 'It's just a small mishap,'" she mocked, looking disguisted at him. "Get it taken care of."
Andrew apolegetically picked up all the paper his companion had scattered throughout the house.
Just 4 days later Margaret stumbled apon Frankie… lying in the middle of the living room floor beside Gracie's playpen, his nose peering through the net watching intently over the infant. Margaret couldn't help but smile at the sight. Then she realized Frankie would have to stay, no matter how long it took her husband to get him to be a "good dog," which could take a while, but oh well. Margaret couldn't let go of the adorable sight of her daughter with her first real companion.
