Except I know the enemy.
I’m sharing a bed with her.
It takes me two steps to make it over the line of brown sludge trailed in circles over the linoleum floor, its actual identity still unknown. I open the refrigerator door, and right there in the front shelf, six ice-cold longneck beers sit, looking like salvation. Three months ago, the six pack would’ve gotten me through the weekend, but now I’m going to need to restock tomorrow.
Even though I have two hands and two beers sound better than one, I decline the second. The lid comes off the dark brown glass bottle with a quick twist and I take a long swig. With another drink, I decide it’s time to deal with…this.
I clear the torn garbage bag with another large step and head down the hallway, reasonably free of debris and puke like you’d expect from someone who obviously ate the insides of a garbage bag today.
Somehow, the bedroom door is partially closed. I open it slowly, not ready to see what’s on the other side. I peek in and adjust my stance, scanning the room and using the same training taught by the military. It’s not needed. With a sigh of relief, I open the door the rest of the way and see the cause of all this destruction. She’s laid out peacefully, her head on the pillows at the top of my bed.
Stretched out on her back with one paw in the air, Frankie sleeps, completely passed out. It takes a lot of energy to destroy the house the way she does every day.
"Frankie," I yell, and this time, she jerks. Falling to her side, her dark brown, almost black tail waves, snapping back and forth with her excitement. "Were you a bad dog today?"
She sits on the bed and tries to look sullen, almost like she understands what I'm saying. My lips frown, but it’s impossible to stay upset, even if what was once a cute, tiny puppy four weeks ago has now blossomed into a large monster. Frankie bounces off the bed, her paws stretched out in front of her like Superman. She leaps to the floor and jumps on my legs.
I bend down and pick her up, letting her give me kisses on the side of my cheek, her tongue leaving a wet streak. It’s the least she can do after what happened in the living room.
When I agreed to take home the puppy from a litter of seven found during a bachelor party with Kenny Jacobson, I thought the task of raising a puppy would be easy. When we were living together in a small cabin, there was nothing to get the puppies in trouble. Plus, they were hungry. Now, with proper care and food, she’s turned into my own mutated version of Frankenstein.
I've always said women are trouble, and I should've guessed adopting a female dog would only confirm the belief.
"What am I going to do with you?"
She doesn't answer with words or barks, but continues to lick me on my cheek and in my ear.
"Uh-huh right, all right. We'll go back to the pet store." She’s chewed her way through the entire toy aisle. From cute pink bunnies to a small replica rubber tire, nothing makes it more than a day or two, but I have to keep trying.
CHAPTER ONE
* Joslin *
LOCAL MAN BRINGS RESCUE DOG HOME TO PELICAN BAY
Eight men celebrating a bachelor party in Kentucky each went home with a surprise—puppies!
This past October, Kenny Jacobson and his groomsmen got together at a cabin in southern Kentucky to celebrate his upcoming nuptials. On their third morning, they noticed a stray dog outside their rented cabin.
"She was scrawny and shaggy-looking, but a sweetheart," said Will Perkins.
Swayed by her soulful eyes, the men gave her food and water. They were soon rewarded with her wagging tail.
Later that evening, Lucas Hewitt heard whining in the woods. He followed the sound to where he found six hungry pups.
Their beer fund quickly turned to dog food money as the men worked to clean and care for the mother and her babies. They washed, fed, and prepared beds for them in the already-crowded cabin.
But the rescue didn't stop there. When the bachelor party was finished, the groom and groomsmen all took home a puppy. Seven dogs for seven men. "It felt like fate." Wesley Harris summed it up nicely, saying, "We were in the right place at the right time."
When asked how his wife-to-be felt about him bringing home a dog from his bachelor party, Kenny laughed and said, "We’ll see. It's a surprise."
You could say these men have a knack for coming to the rescue wherever they are. The groom and groomsmen, who live in different parts of the world, met last year after each assisted during an emergency on a flight to Tampa. They plan to maintain communication online and hope to one day reunite the puppies on another vacation.
**
The large automatic doors part, the metal squeaking as they slide open to let the elderly shopper out right as I finish reading the article. It’s cute. A bunch of men rescuing puppies from a bachelor party sounds like something Hallmark would make a movie about. There’s a smile on my face when I step back through the pet store’s doors.
The Chipmunks Christmas album blasts from the speakers overhead. I am so ready for this holiday to be over. The local stations started playing Christmas music before Thanksgiving. When did that become a thing? Hasn't the rule always been Christmas music starts on Thanksgiving day?
