People who are involved in the animal welfare community are oddly insulated. We tend to think that everyone knows about the importance of adoption, the evils of buying from pet stores. But according to the Humane Society of the United States, “Nationwide, only about 20 percent of dogs in homes come from shelters—the rest come from other sources.”
That’s pretty shocking.
Somehow, many, many people still believe that dogs adopted from shelters or rescue groups are inferior.
Frankie and I are here to tell you otherwise, in a nod to the Animal Planet show featuring Andrea Arden, dog smoocher extraordinaire. This post doesn’t have the production values of the TV Underdog to Wonderdog, but it would be hard to beat Frankie’s success story for dramatic impact.
Underdog
Frankie is an International Dog of Mystery. At age four or five, he was found wandering the streets of Tucson (I suspect amnesia) where he was noticed by Pima Animal Care Center. He was plucked out of obscurity under the aegis of Arizona Schnauzer Rescue by my friend Rebecca, who sent me his headshot. She clearly had an eye for a diamond in the rough.
The rest, as they say, is history.
Muse
After Frankie and I got over a mutual period of adjustment, the creative juices began to flow (well, in his case, it was pee). I wrote about our adventures together for The Bark, Tucson Home, and Your Dog, the Tufts University veterinary school newsletter.
But in spite of his diminutive size, Frankie was too much dog to be contained in a few magazine articles. He needed his own book.
The result: Am I Boring My Dog: And 99 Other Things Every Dog Wishes You Knew.
Book spokesdog
I was responsible for the drudge work part of the promotion, sending out letters, trying in vain to get Oprah’s attention. Frankie got the glamor job, the world book tour.
Blog Star
One video and promotional tour just didn’t cut it for Frankie. Threatening to go on strike and refuse to appear in any additional promos, he presented me with a list of demands, including top billing by name in the header of my blog and a commitment to write about him once a month, minimum. He had me under his little paw.
Inspirational icon
Blog, shmog, Frankie said next. He had a message to spread and needed a larger national presence. Greeting cards, cocktail napkins, refrigerator magnets… he did it all.
He’s one determined — not to mention photogenic — pup.
Frankie says, Live the life you have imagined. Rescue a dog.
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Auf Wiedersehen, Will My Dog Hate Me
How do you say good-bye to people with whom you’ve spent more time for the last three years than any of your friends and family members (except for a small furry one)? People you’ve come to respect and care about deeply?
You don’t.
It’s true that I won’t be blogging about pets any more. But I haven’t been fully present since I announced that I would be working on a new project last January. And being half here is neither what I want nor what you, gentle readers, deserve. The topics we’ve been having a conversation about, from rescue and training to BSL and tainted food, are too important to be given short shrift.
That said, this blog has most of all been about sharing experiences with people who understand that our pets are family members and that loving animals is a key part of what makes us human, in the fullest sense of that term. And I will always be part of that community, which has given me more than I’d ever imagined was possible — support, advice, and help in real life. Not to mention permission to discuss dog poop.
I was going to say a long good-bye, share some of my favorite posts, recognize individuals who have been particularly supportive, but I found it impossible to choose. And pulling the bandage off quickly is best. Besides, my last post, about Frankie, said it all. And it’s the image I want to leave you with: My muse, the always amusing Frankie, forever in his prime.
I hope you’ll come over to my new blog, Freud’s Butcher, a journey into the life of my mother’s family in Vienna (you knew there had to be a reason I was suddenly throwing around German phrases, didn’t you?). It would be great to see old friends. But even if you don’t, you’ll still be with me. You don’t cut part of your heart out when you move homes.
Unless, of course, you’re relocating to Transylvania. Then all bets are off.

Here it is — my last Saturday pet blogger’s hop:
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