Frank the Tank

As many of you know, I have an almost 11 month old bulldog. He is the cutest thing. But just as cute as he is, he is also a terror and handful to put it lightly. Some classic Frank stories include:

• The time he got mad for being shut in the bedroom, ate an entire bottle of red NyQuil (except for the drops, ahem, splashes, he got on the carpet...under the bed...in JD's bedroom...)
• The time he ate a rubber flip flop and pooped it out for two days.
• The time he ate a hole in my couch (luckily not a pillow, just the mat beneath. I have a nice view of the springs though! Super interesting).
• The time a 1.5 pound mini-Chihauhua attacked him and he did not retaliate until he had to go into kill mode, nearly gave Ashley's (see friend who just got married) grandmother a heart attack. I had to pull Frank away by his harness, even though that little bastard had it coming!!
• The time I came in from a party and thought my friends had unknowingly let him out of the house. Rational reaction (at 1 am after pitchers of margaritas): Burst into tears, wake up all neighbors, and go on a man (or should I say dog) hunt for ten minutes only to have my DI partner in crime Paul find him under the guest bed. Dog found and day saved!
• The 100s of accidents he had in my Charleston condo aka present home of Crazy Bia Bia Landlady Joan (Good boy!)
• The dozens of times a day he passes gas. I have seriously been woken up by the smell. I didn't know if was possible to be roused by pure smell, but apparently it is.
• And let's not forget, the explosive diarrhea he had IN HIS CRATE while I was at work yesterday...poor guy. I don't know who had the shittier day, pun intended.

Baby Frank!

Frankie and his best buddy Jack. They are gay lovers (note Frank is whining about his collar and Jack is doing a can can dance) and it pains them to be separated.

Frank ready to get out of the car. Poor guy spent his first few months of life back and forth to Greenville with me. He is quite the car rider now though (minus the tooting).