Frankie has many reasons to love his big ‘sister’

When Sylvia, our free-spirited, world-wandering, hippy child, checks back into her room here at her childhood home, there is often a great swirl of excitement and interest.

It may be just an overnight visit, a weekend or even an entire month while she’s in between the camp counselor gigs she has strung together into a sort of “van life” experience where the star actually sleeps in a real bed rather than in the back of a converted Subaru as she travels the country. Whatever the occasion, she is always greeted with exuberance by her successor as the “youngest child” in the family, our dog Frankie.

Frank’s enthusiasm is understandable as even though Sylvia claims herself a “cat person” and can often be found walking about the woods and fields with her feline son, One Nostril Newt, either slung over her shoulders in a screened backpack or awkwardly prowling at the end of a wispy leash, she always greets the dog with a sparkling adulation.

She also smells like exotic, woodsy places to the dog, and her stuff carries a hint of the weird and varied pets her roommates at camp keep in their communal living space. Then, of course, there is the thing that quite possibly surpasses all other reasons for joy in the mind of a dog. Sylvia loves junk food, and wherever she goes, a trail of forbidden delights is sure to follow.

Frank is like that kid you knew in school whose “health nut” parents never allowed processed food in the house. When that same kid came over to your place after school, he was instantly face-down in a bowl of Fruit Loops, daring you to do shots of pancake syrup or swallowing spoonfuls of strawberry jam straight from the jar. Given a whiff of the wild side, Frankie’s ready to jump in with all four paws at a moment’s notice.

So when the human daughter arrives to park herself on the sofa with an iced latte, a bag of chocolate-covered peanuts and the remains of a chicken quesadilla, the dog knows it’s only a matter of time until some distraction will offer the opportunity for a rare and wonderful indulgence. He lurks in the shadows like a 60-pound turkey vulture waiting for traffic to clear so he can dash to the center line and fly off with a meal. The circumstance repeats itself with disturbing regularity.

Even once Sylvia has left again, her mystical aura remains for days as the dog sniffs out various stashes of comestible contraband. Just the other evening, for instance, as Kristin and I were setting into bed for the night, Frank left his space at the foot of our bed to scratch at the door of Sylvia’s room.

“Aw, he must miss his sister,” Kristin said while rising to open the door. “He just wants to sleep on her bed.”

Weary from a long day, I mumbled a subconscious agreement and nodded off again until moments later when I heard the dog re-enter our room to circle the bed to Kristin’s side.

“Hi, buddy,” she said. “What’s that you’re bringing to show me?”

She flicked on the light to reveal the dog with a large plastic container carried delicately between his jaws like a snake with a chicken egg. It was a full quart of buckeyes — and not the kind you find in the park amid the brown leaves. These were peanut butter fudge-dipped-in-chocolate variety!

I was onto Frank’s plot. Rather than “bringing them to show her,” he was looking to Kristin to pry open the lid and collude with his thievery. Had it not been the middle of the night, I’m certain he would have earned himself a partner!

Kristin and John Lorson would love to hear from you. Write Drawing Laughter, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email John atjlorson@alonovus.com.