Another social night
I've been planning to take FriscoDog back to Spider House, but he hasn't been up for it in days. Today I was in a mood that required an outing, and Frisco seemed to be in better shape, so we went back down. It turned out to be a fantastic time.
Frisco made it in on his own power, tail wagging vigorously the whole way. Before I had even found a table, I'd lost my dog to the cheery masses.
It was a Wednesday night, ten o'clock or so, by the time I got there. Spider House was a couply place, lots of people on what seemed to be early dates, still feeling each other out and putting their own best feet forward. This is Frisco's favorite atmosphere -- he gets to wade in, in his lopsided sort of way, and provide a bit of release from first-date stress. Plus, people on their first date love to demonstrate how cool and loving they are, and what great parents they would be, or whatever it is that they're trying to prove to their Intended. Whatever they're trying to prove always seems to involve scratching doggie ears.
I sent an e-mail message to Spider House a week or more ago, quoting from this blog and thanking them for providing my Boy an open patio to meet people and chase his racquetball over the years. A manager recognized Frisco from that e-mail, came up and introduced himself, saying he had been touched by my message. They're good people, at Spider House.
A few weeks ago, Frisco had lost any ability to chase his ball. It was just too elusive, and he was too unsure on his feet. But tonight he was able to do it, and he bugged me to throw it for a good hour or more, off and on. There was more "off" time than there would have been during his prime, but still I was thrilled at how much he was able to do.
He might just be recovering!
The waitress who had been there on our first visit during his crisis was there again, and she came over to chat with me a bit. She noted his improvement, and she threw the ball for him a time or two.
As usual, Frisco spent his evening making friends. There were a thousand people to give him love, and he soaked up every bit of it. I had work to do, and he seemed steady enough that I could let him explore on his own. I threw the ball when he wanted me to, but mostly he disappeared with wagging tail to meet new people. From time to time someone approached from way off down the patio to tell me what a great dog I have (and I had to agree). One girl told me that her golden retriever had had a stroke four or five years ago, and the symptoms were identical to Frisco's, and her girl lived another four years. I hope she's right, and I hope that's what Frisco and I have to look forward to. He's loving life too much to die.
And that's the thing: even as he was stumbling around and struggling to find his ball, he was all joy and love. He's my boy again, the dog I remember.
Earlier in the day, a dear friend whom I have known and loved for years, had e-mailed me a completely un-expected PFO, so I wasn't loving my own existence. ("PFO" = "Please F* Off.") But seeing Frisco completely oblivious to human drama, strolling through the crowd and making friends with everyone there, was a kind of dual affirmation for me: a reminder of Frisco's health, and of the humanity of human-kind. We may treat each other like dirt sometimes, but there's no one so mean-spirited as not to love a golden retriever with a little green ball in his mouth. As long as that's so, I don't care what anyone does to me, humanity is redeemed.
We were at Spider House for two or three hours, and my computer battery was wearing down. I hadn't a clue where my boy was, so I tracked him down (way on the other end of the patio) to head for the door. It took some doing: he was getting lots of attention, and he really didn't care to follow his dad home, but I did finally get him to follow me out.
There's a little creek across the way from Spider House, and a coven had gathered to exchange guitar riffs and I don't know what else. This is a common thing in Austin. Frisco went plowing through the middle of them, still angling to the right, getting scratched and petted on all sides. If I had been in a better mood, I might have let him linger a bit longer, but I made him find his way to the car.When I got him home, he was so tired that he immediately crashed at my feet and slept through the night while I wrote this and other articles.
Frisco made it in on his own power, tail wagging vigorously the whole way. Before I had even found a table, I'd lost my dog to the cheery masses.
It was a Wednesday night, ten o'clock or so, by the time I got there. Spider House was a couply place, lots of people on what seemed to be early dates, still feeling each other out and putting their own best feet forward. This is Frisco's favorite atmosphere -- he gets to wade in, in his lopsided sort of way, and provide a bit of release from first-date stress. Plus, people on their first date love to demonstrate how cool and loving they are, and what great parents they would be, or whatever it is that they're trying to prove to their Intended. Whatever they're trying to prove always seems to involve scratching doggie ears.
I sent an e-mail message to Spider House a week or more ago, quoting from this blog and thanking them for providing my Boy an open patio to meet people and chase his racquetball over the years. A manager recognized Frisco from that e-mail, came up and introduced himself, saying he had been touched by my message. They're good people, at Spider House.
A few weeks ago, Frisco had lost any ability to chase his ball. It was just too elusive, and he was too unsure on his feet. But tonight he was able to do it, and he bugged me to throw it for a good hour or more, off and on. There was more "off" time than there would have been during his prime, but still I was thrilled at how much he was able to do.
He might just be recovering!
The waitress who had been there on our first visit during his crisis was there again, and she came over to chat with me a bit. She noted his improvement, and she threw the ball for him a time or two.
As usual, Frisco spent his evening making friends. There were a thousand people to give him love, and he soaked up every bit of it. I had work to do, and he seemed steady enough that I could let him explore on his own. I threw the ball when he wanted me to, but mostly he disappeared with wagging tail to meet new people. From time to time someone approached from way off down the patio to tell me what a great dog I have (and I had to agree). One girl told me that her golden retriever had had a stroke four or five years ago, and the symptoms were identical to Frisco's, and her girl lived another four years. I hope she's right, and I hope that's what Frisco and I have to look forward to. He's loving life too much to die.
And that's the thing: even as he was stumbling around and struggling to find his ball, he was all joy and love. He's my boy again, the dog I remember.
Earlier in the day, a dear friend whom I have known and loved for years, had e-mailed me a completely un-expected PFO, so I wasn't loving my own existence. ("PFO" = "Please F* Off.") But seeing Frisco completely oblivious to human drama, strolling through the crowd and making friends with everyone there, was a kind of dual affirmation for me: a reminder of Frisco's health, and of the humanity of human-kind. We may treat each other like dirt sometimes, but there's no one so mean-spirited as not to love a golden retriever with a little green ball in his mouth. As long as that's so, I don't care what anyone does to me, humanity is redeemed.
We were at Spider House for two or three hours, and my computer battery was wearing down. I hadn't a clue where my boy was, so I tracked him down (way on the other end of the patio) to head for the door. It took some doing: he was getting lots of attention, and he really didn't care to follow his dad home, but I did finally get him to follow me out.
There's a little creek across the way from Spider House, and a coven had gathered to exchange guitar riffs and I don't know what else. This is a common thing in Austin. Frisco went plowing through the middle of them, still angling to the right, getting scratched and petted on all sides. If I had been in a better mood, I might have let him linger a bit longer, but I made him find his way to the car.When I got him home, he was so tired that he immediately crashed at my feet and slept through the night while I wrote this and other articles.
posted by Unknown at 5:11 PM
1 Comments:
It's great to hear that Frisco is doing so well. Observing and taking inspiration from the joy a dog finds in life is the biggest gift they give us.
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