When I was a kid, we had two dogs.

One bit people. One bit dogs.

Made for an exciting canine life.

Our brown dog, Frisky, who was probably part Rottweiler, was the people – biter. He was barrel chested and had sharp teeth. He didn’t like anyone in the family that much, and now and then he’d take a nip at us. His favorite person was my mother.

(Everyone’s favorite person was my mother.)

I distinctly remember my mother, in a pretty, flowered dress, desperately sticking her leg between the front door and the door jam to keep Frisky inside.  He was very strong, and she was often very pregnant.

He would squish and push and out he’d dart, like a dog out of hell.  He would take off after kids on bikes (his specialty), howling like the devil going crazy, or he would sprint across the street, through the park, and off to his girlfriend’s. (A poor choice, will tell you more later.)

Frisky would chase kids who didn’t realize they could run that fast until Frisky was gnashing his teeth behind them.

That dog loved adventures.  He liked freedom, liberty, and feeling the wind blow between his hairy ears.

When Frisky took off, my mother would often call her best friend, Bonnie, who lived down the street. Bonnie would then let loose her huge St. Bernard and yell, “Go get Frisky.” I don’t remember the St. Bernard’s name but we’ll call him The Enforcer. The Enforcer would chase Frisky home. He was shaggy, lumbering, and way bigger than Frisky. Upon sight of The Enforcer, Frisky would stop barking, gulp, and sprint for home.

Frisky often escaped for romantic escapades.  He had a girlfriend. We’ll call her Jezebel. This affair was apparently hot and steamy, but only for a little while. Jezebel had another boyfriend. We’ll call the other boyfriend, Bully.

Bully did not appreciate seeing Jezebel take up with another dog, so one time he tried to eat Frisky. Frisky limped home, bitten and bleeding, and did not leave his home in my parents’ closet, or his fluffy orange blanket, for days.

It was shortly after this love triangle that my mother decided he had to be neutered. Poor dog. He had no idea his manhood was about to be removed as my mother led him, panting, to the vet. (Frisky was panting, not my mother. My mother was a southern belle. Southern belles do not pant.)

The removal resulted in another long stay in his closet, cuddled up to his orange blanket, but Frisky calmed down after that, some would say, like any other man.

He stopped running around with taken women. In fact, his womanizing days appeared to come to an end. He didn’t try to escape so often. He obeyed my mother more.  He wasn’t as interested in chasing down kids on bikes to bite or stalking innocent children.

The Enforcer would only now and then have to be brought out, his tongue flopping about with unbridled joy at the hunt.

Frisky got fat after being neutered, some would say like any other man, and my mother put him on a strict diet in his later years. He slimmed way down.  He was grumpier, but the weight came off and stayed off. He would emerge from the closet to eagerly eat, pee, then head back into his closet. He loved his brother dog, Alphy, an ex – stray, but didn’t much like people, preferred his own company, and was an old curmudgeon.

The curmudgeon lived to be twenty one years old.  He had a growth on his leg by then, was at least half  blind, couldn’t hear too well, bit the air when he saw shadows, and had white hair on his collar and nose.

I remember the day he died. My sister carried him in from outside where he’d collapsed, and placed him on his fluffy orange blanket in the closet. He snuggled in, we covered his head, as he liked, and he closed his eyes for the last time.

We missed Frisky. He was a well loved, very bad biting dog.

What did I learn from him? Get skinny when you get old and you’ll probably live longer. Try not to be grumpy.  Don’t bite people. Be yourself. Favorite orange blankets are good. Don’t have affairs with taken people/dogs or you might get eaten.

And run, run fast. You never know what kind of adventure is out there waiting for you.