Thirty Days of Thanksgiving: Day 12, Frosty

I am thankful for Frosty.  Frosty is our first dog (but not our first pet.  That honor goes to Simon Thecat, who passed away this summer.  And I'm still upset with the vet about it, and will not recommend that vet to anyone!)  Frosty started his life known to us with my mother.  My sister Karla was working at the animal shelter and brought Frosty home one night.  If memory serves, Frosty's name was Chevy back then.  Luke, Karla's oldest (and at that time, only) child renamed him Frosty, and I think it fits.

Before Mike and I were even married, we loved Frosty.  We had visited my mother, where Frosty woke us up each morning with his ferocious dog breath.  (We have since cured Frosty of the ferocious breath, but have at the same time created a ferocious Greenie addict who must have a Greenie every day or there could be severe consequences.)  After we left Frosty ran around the house, carrying his octopus squeaky toy, looking for us.  As soon as we could, we moved into an apartment that allowed dogs, with the sole intent of "rescuing" Frosty once again, this time from my mother.  (My mother loved Frosty.  I am not saying that Frosty was ignored.  What I am saying is that no one understands Frosty the way we do.  And that includes my mother.)

Frosty moved in with us in San Diego.  He loved our apartment, which was on the third floor.  It thrilled him to no end to be able to sit in the window and look down on everyone and everything.  We lived a block away from a dog park where we spent a lot of time.  Mike and I often went to the dog park on Friday nights instead of the bar.  Much better company.

Frosty loves many things.  He loves to go for a walk.  He loves to look out the window at who knows what. He is a pot-stirrer of the highest order.  He will bark once, while standing in the middle of the room, just to get the other dogs barking, and then stand back and listen while smiling away.  He is always in a good mood.  He doesn't particularly like to be picked up, and he isn't much of a lap dog, but he is always in the same room as we are.  He loves to eat, and does a little dance we call The Frosty Dance of Happiness when we are dishing out his food (or our food).  His middle name is Danger.  Truly it is.  His vet announcements come addressed to Frosty Danger Malone.

Frosty snouts things.  That's what we call it:  snouting.  He snouts the door open.  He snouts knick knacks on the shelf.  He snouts his food bowl, and has often overturned some of the food out of it.  His favorite toy is the squeaky elephant (EleFUNt).  He hates the Life Source Bits in his food and has been known to eat around them.  He will leave scatterings of Life Source Bits wherever he has decided to dine, which is almost never at his bowl.

Love that Frosty.