We wrapped up the flash fiction stories about the Chinese flu about 10 days ago. But I knew this one was coming. It’s a true story, and I was told the tale in the depths of the panic over Whuhan virus spread. So, being a good boy, I saved it until a better time. I hope you enjoy the tale of Franky.
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Andrea fosters dogs on a short term basis. And while she loves dogs, especially since her own furry friend died somewhat recently, she loves rescuing them even more than keeping them.
One day, Moe – a little dog with a big heart – wandered into her orbit and she started to share his story on social media. More pictures, stories of his quirks, his life, his joys. She was in love with her foster dog and wanted him to have a great home.
And across the internet a heart opened. Yolanda had been without a dog for three years since her last dog had died. The attraction was immediate, and so strong given those pictures of Moe, that it drug her out of the Covid-19 Quarantine to meet this pooch.
It was love at first belly-rub. Moe went ballistic over his new friend, Yogi. Yogi, being a wise women, said she’d have to ask her husband. All good decisions take time to marinate.
The next day there was a frantic call from Andrea – Moe had been assigned to another rescue and she had to surrender the dog the following week.
Rapid planning ensued – the rescue was not giving any quarter, Moe was going to Chicago-land to another rescue to find a home. Fees had been paid, things had been done and Moe had to go to the next rescue. He’d been paid for and consigned. Done.
Would he be dog-napped? Would he be “lost” and found by Yogi? Would aliens select him for interstellar transit?
Instead, prayers started to bang on the gates of heaven – via St. Francis of Assisi. Yogi enlisted family and friends, everyone she could think of who knew God to join in this prayer war.
Tuesday was surrender day. Andrea took Moe to the meeting, where he was to get a final look-over by the rescue manager to make sure he was fit to travel and join the new rescue up north.
Andrea couldn’t help but plead his case, and the rescue worker said Moe still had to go pending the inspection.
A little later, she returned with Moe, a sad look on her face. “He failed. I can’t send him on.”
Andrea, who had taken a huge interest in little Moe was surprised.
“Failed? What’s wrong with him? He’s perfectly fine.”
The rescue worker just smiled and shook her head. “Nope. I’m afraid he can’t travel.”
“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll come up with a reason. Now take your dog and love him enough to get him a forever home with your friend.”
And so it is that Moe became “Frankie.”
Frankie, naturally, being easier to say than Saint Francis to whom they’d prayed for intercession. And a bit less obnoxious to the faithful. Some object to dogs being named as Saints – even when the real Francis would love the story, and the loving family that gave him the name, as much as anyone could imagine.
You see, this isn’t flash fiction: it’s the real story of Frankie the amazing rescue dog.
But it sure could be fiction – and we’re glad to share it with you.