The Fro-dog Years

Still talking about critters here...

After my cats went over the Rainbow Bridge and my daughter was out of the nest, I determined that I didn't want any more pets. I am a committed pet owner--one of those that generally accepts that the animals are part of the family and that the responsibilities of their care are just part of the package. I had put up with cat hair, cat barf, cat litter, cat pee, cat poop, cat-scratched wallpaper, etc., for 14 years. I figured it was time for me not to have to take care of another living thing aside from myself. Yeah!

This seems off topic, but it isn't. When I bought my house-on-a-slab in Plainfield, every room was carpeted--even the bathrooms and the kitchen. The kitchen carpet was one of those low-pile berber deals that won't wear out. Just gets dirty and doesn't clean up well.

Okay...so the first thing my daughter and her then-husband did after moving out of my house to their own apartment was get a 6-week-old puppy. I knew it was in the works and had admonished them, over and over, not to do it. They were just getting started in life, living in a rental apartment with carpeting, etc. Don't get a dog now! Did they listen? Noooo.... The pup was Nathan's decision. He named HER Frodo after a book character that he liked. (The character was male; the dog was female. Try to explain that to people!) Frodo was an adorable buff cocker spaniel with the prettiest brown eyes and long, floppy ears. She also became, over time, one of the most spoiled-rotten dogs I have ever met!

The apartment complex where the kids lived had resident ducks and geese around a small lake. There was duck/goose feces everywhere...and that, I guess, is the reason Nathan and Megan didn't bother to housebreak the Fro-dog. I let them know that they weren't doing right by her, to which Megan responded, "When you have your own puppy, you can train it any way you want." Thereafter, I said, "Then don't bring her to my house because she won't be a good house guest!"

Nathan treated Frodo like a princess, and she filled the bill. She flatly refused to eat dog food, preferring to lick human dinner plates and/or steal food from the table when the human backs were turned. (She was a shameless food whore!) She piddled and pooped anywhere in the house she chose, in spite of the fact that she might just have been outside minutes before... And after the children were born, Robin learned at a very young age to put a paper towel over piles of dog poop. (Isn't that what all toddlers do??) Still, I loved that stupid dog...and she loved me. When I arrived at their house, I was always greeted by doggie-hysterics. She was a hoot, but she was also a health hazard!

In my last post, I mentioned that my cat Puddy Tat had cornered a yellow Lab with her attitude. Puddy did the same thing to Frodo. The kids would come to visit. Butterscotch would run and we wouldn't see her again for the duration of their visit, but Puddy--who lacked claws but didn't lack attitude--would stand down Frodo. The dog wouldn't get off the couch because of the big bad pussy cat! It was comical, actually. While the humans dined in the kitchen, Puddy would lie down near the kitchen doorway, thereby preventing the scaredy-dog from being near the food--something that just killed her! After Puddy died, it took several visits before Frodo realized she could get off the couch.

Nathan and Megan and Frodo lived first in that apartment in Indy, then with Nathan's parents for a few months, then at Friendswood Golf Course where the children were born just five miles from me. Then Nathan got a good job offer in Muncie, IN, and the family was to move there. The first place they found to live--a rental--required "no pets". Nathan cried and cried at the notion of having to relocate Frodo to another home. I slumped in defeat. I could not let my grand-dog go to a shelter somewhere after she had been so spoiled. She wouldn't understand. I loved Frodo....I just didn't WANT her. I relented. Okay...I said I would take Frodo until I could find her another home. I made Megan and Nathan pay to have her professionally de-flea'd and make sure her shots were up to date. I purchased things that I needed for a doggie housemate. And so it went. I decided I would work to housebreak her, then find an acceptable home for her. Well! Frodo had other ideas!

I didn't know it then, but cocker spaniels are hard to train. It is a characteristic of the breed. I got Frodie when she was three and had her five years. I worked and worked to train her to "go" outside, but had to buy "puppy pampers"--pads to put down in the kitchen for her to urinate and defecate on. Sometimes she did, and sometimes she didn't. The kitchen carpet, which was already dirty, became a cesspool of germs. (Dr. Oz would not approve!) When my grandchildren came to visit, I couldn't let them be on the kitchen floor nor could they play in the back yard until we did the "poop patrol". (Ryan was too young to remember it, but he and I used to go out to do poop patrol so I could pick up dog feces before he went out to play. He got pretty good at spotting it. Isn't that an accomplishment with which you want to be able to credit your grandchild????)

Sad to say, but Frodo could not be trusted alone around the grandchildren. She was defensive around food and/or chew toys that had food potential. If she felt threatened at all, she would nip. She was totally insecure which leads to fear reactions. For awhile, grandson Ryan would get down on all fours at Frodo's level and follow her around, even to her safe places under my feet, pretending to be a dog. I lived in dread that she might turn around and bite him in the face, just to get him to leave her alone. He was too young to be deterred. "That's what dogs do," he would tell me.

One day, Megan and the grandchildren came to live with me, unannounced. A divorce ensued between Megan and Nathan. In the meantime, we did what we could to make my little house suitable for all of us. The bottom line was that I felt we were living in Frodo's toilet. The handwriting was on the wall. Frodo was not adoptable and had been unresponsive to training. She had just chased Robin down the hall and nipped her on the fingers. I was done. For the first time in my life, I gave up on a pet.

With a heavy heart, and feeling like an absolute criminal, I took Frodo to the vet to be put down. Thereafter, we began to put the house back in some semblance of cleanliness. The kitchen carpet was replaced with vinyl flooring. The yard was permanently rid of the need to do the "poop patrol". We survived. I hope Frodo will be waiting for us with forgiveness on the other side of life. I really felt that I had no choice in the decision I had to make. I hope she understands that she was my LAST pet!