There are a lot of things I won’t miss about Frank.
I won’t miss his hair being everywhere. I won’t miss how it would explode from his body with the slightest move and billow like a brown cloud if he sneezed. I won’t miss not being able to walk through my living room without socks because the hair would coat them and pierce my toes. Do you know how dog hair feels when it pierces your toe? I won’t miss that.
I won’t miss finding hair on the furniture because he was sneaky and got on the couch to snuggle with one of the kids. That hair would get in the crevices and couldn’t be cleaned. Some of it would wipe out but not all of it. My couches will forever have some hair in the deepest parts of the cushions.
I won’t miss finding a bed covered in hair because he crept past the baby gate we kept on the stairs to slide into bed with the kids. He loved the warmth of their covers and curling up with Seth or Shelby was just about his favorite thing on earth; especially on a stormy night. But you might as well through away a comforter where he slept. That hair is never coming out.
I won’t miss him sneezing in my face. He liked to get up close to sniff me and love on me….and sneeze on me. He would blow snot on my face, on my shirt, on the furniture where I sat, on the walls. Oh, the walls. I won’t miss finding a string of snot on the wall, or the kitchen cabinet, or the windows, or the ceiling fan. I don’t know how it happened. Actually, I do. He always, always, always had a long string of drool hanging from his lip. Always. the gooey, slimy, disgusting snot would fling to the nether regions of the house. I won’t miss that.
But I will miss seeing him fall asleep in front of the fireplace. I will miss him sun bathing on the back patio. I will miss him sitting on the rug in the kitchen with his tail dancing behind him, swatting the ground impatiently, waiting for dinner. I will miss the way he would try to squeeze under the breakfast table when it was thundering. I will miss how he would get between the kids and strangers to protect them. I will miss the way he would whine and pace around the pool while we swam, so worried that we were facing incredible danger. Either that or he was upset we were dirtying his water bowl. We never figured that out for certain.
There are so things I won’t miss about Frank. But for every reason I won’t miss him there are twice as many why I will. Having a pet is like having a bonus member of your family. Having a gentle giant like Frank changes the dynamics of your family entirely. He was our protector and our friend. He was a bringer of joy and carrier of peace. He made us laugh and smile and yesterday, he made us cry.
Farewell, my sweet friend. You gave us seven and a half years of love and we will love you for all of our lives.