One Company, Three Great Shops

Poverty Barn is the parent company of two other businesses: Roo's Remnants and 4 Left Turns. Between the three, we've got you covered when it comes to home decor, baby and kid items and anything related to racing. Visit the links on the left to find out more about what we have to offer.

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

A Day in the Life of Frisco

Today we welcome a very special guest blogger, our dog, Frisco.  He is witness to everything that goes on in this home and in this business, so we thought you might like to hear from him. Enjoy!
Hi!  My name is Frisco. Welcome to my first attempt at blogging. Mom is typing for me because I didn't listen to her and refused to take keyboarding in school.  Can't say as I've ever missed it. Until now.


A little about me. I'm a mixed breed Labrador and Field Spaniel.  I was abandoned at about the age of 7 months, incarcerated in puppy prison and freed when my adopted parents posted bail.  That was 7-and-a-half years ago.  I have to say that my current home is much cushier than "the joint." Shudder.  Fortunately, I was young and the passage of time has helped the memories to fade.

My parents say that the reason they adopted me is because I chose them.  Apparently, I was the quiet one in the room, sitting humbly in my cell, using my Puss-in-Boots eyes to lure them in.  Dad was hooked and the kids followed suit.  Mom was a harder sell, but she eventually caved as well.

Fast-forward to the present. I am now eight years old (that's 56 to you humans) and the senior member of the family.  With age have come a few health issues, but I don't let them slow me down.

Like a lot of older folks, I have a daily regime of medications.  It started with hip dysplaysia, for which I take a nasty fishy-smelling pill.  Mom disguises it with mini marshmallows, which helps, but she's not fooling anyone.

Early last year, I was diagnosed with diabetes. Now I take insulin injections twice a day.  They don't hurt much, and I get my favorite chocolate-chip cookies as a reward for sitting still, so it's not so bad.  I know I look ridiculous when I have to balance those cookies on my nose, toss them up and catch them, but they are worth it. Yum!

Late last year, I noticed that things started to get fuzzy. I began bumping into furniture and walls. Finally, one day, I could no longer catch treats because I couldn't see them.  Dad and Mom took me to a doctor, who gave me some really good drugs.  When I woke up, I could see again. It was a miracle!  Mom cried the first time she looked into my eyes and knew I could see her again.  She's such a sentimental wimp.

So now, on top of the pill and the insulin, I have to get drops in my eyes three times a day.  They don't hurt, and I know that if I sit still it's all over with in a blink, so I sit, turn my head, get the drop and wait for my mini marshmallow. Gulp!

You would think that all of these routines would really cramp my style, but they don't.  I still love to get Dad up at night (hey, my bladder ain't what it used to be!) and I enjoy chasing those pesky rabbits that trespass in our yard. I also like to go after skinks but they are hard to catch.  And they don't taste all that great when I do catch them.  It's more of a game than anything.

I love a good rawhide chew, and playing with my toys and chasing after a ball.  Of course, the best part is when I get one of the family to do tricks.  They seem to think I'm the one who "learned" something when I roll over, crawl across the floor, speak or sit, but honestly, they are the ones with the treat in their hands so who's really winning here?

For a brief time, I became a YouTube sensation when I got the mail from our mail man.  Not sure what the big deal is there, but everybody who sees it thinks it's cool.  You can see the video here: Frisco Gets the Mail

My family is awesome. It's just the four of us here now, since my sister got married and moved out.  She comes around quite a bit and brings my niece, who kind of freaks me out. I'm trying to get to know her, but I'm just not used to tiny people and I don't want her pulling my ears or biting my nose. Her language confuses me too, but once she learns to speak English instead of Minion, I think it will get better. We'll work things out eventually.

I get to sleep whenever and where ever I want to, and at night Mom or Dad help me up on the bed since it's too tall for me.  My family members give me hugs, pat me, play with me, pray for me and most of all, they love me.  And I love them right back.  It's a pretty sweet gig.

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