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I am a real dog lover and have always felt that a house is not a home unless a dog is in it. Over the years I have had many different dogs. I have loved them all but honestly some are smarter than others.

My twin sister works at a vet's office on the boarding kennel side. On many occasions she will have a dog whose family does not want them anymore or whose family never comes back to pick them up. One day she was talking about a little three-year-old rat terrier named Frankie. She said that he was the cuties little dog she had ever met. I told her that I would really like a small dog. She said that Frankie was not for our family because the woman that owned him was giving him away because he was not good with children. The woman had expressed her fear that Frankie was going to bite one of her kids because he was always growling at them.

About two weeks later my sister asked if I would consider justing keeping Frankie for a little while until she found another home for him. He had been at the vets a long time and they were going to have to send him to the pound if they did not find a place for him right away. I said sure and had talked to the children about how Frankie was just a guest and they could not play with him.

When my sister brought him over I was instantly in love with this little dog. He was white with big black spots, a long tail and the biggest ears I have ever seen. He came in, looked at me and then proceeded to walk around the house. He found a spot that he liked under the table and stayed there. When the kids got home, he paid no attention to them. Actually, he paid no attention to anyone, not even my 13 year old black retriever.

Finally, after about a week of this, my youngest son who was four at the time, couldn't resist any longer. When I was not looking he went under the table and started petting Frankie. When I realized he was under there and that Frankie was just lying there not moving and not growling, I handed my son a cookie and told him to share. Frankie took pieces of the cookie gently but would not make any eye contact with my son.

I called my sister and told her what was going on. She was surprised because Frankie was always such a friendly little dog with adults and he loved other dogs. She said that she did have a talk with Frankie on the way over to my house the first day about how he needed to behave and how he could not play with the kids. This was his last chance and if he did not do good he would have to go to the pound.

I figured

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