At the end of October, it will be one year since Franklin joined our family. He has endeared himself to me in so many ways.
Here's a favorite: When he's really happy, for example, if I've been gone for as long as an entire hour and returned home to his joy-filled greeting, after we kiss and hug and say hello, as I walk through the house, he pushes past the other boys to get to my right side. He takes the fingers of my right hand in his mouth.
He doesn't bite; he doesn't nip.
He simply holds my fingers as if his mouth is the hand he wishes he could place in mine.
He's so happy to see me when I awake in the morning, as if he thought I would remain asleep forever. He got in bed with me once for about 30 seconds. He's never done that again, but when I wake up, he stands up at the side of the bed, tail wagging, tongue outstretched to kiss me good morning, huge smile spreading across his face.
He's incredibly sensitive. If I let even one tear flow, he's next to me immediately with his quizzical look, wondering how he can help.
When we watch a movie or read, he sits next to me. I put my arm around him until his head drops to the arm rest of the chair. Then we gaze into each other's eyes. Then I kiss the white streak on his forehead. Then I kiss his doggie lips. I say, I love you. I look into his eyes some more and feel his love for me.
When I adopted Franklin, I knew he couldn't replace the great love of my life, Faulkner. But Franklin is damn close to Faulkner level. Very damn close.
Franklin and Harper and Scout remind me every single day why Dog is God spelled backwards.
Infinities of Franklin love,