Today, we went to see Norman's mom and the subject of the dog they used to have came up. And now, for the tale of Frank and the dogs (and one cat).
The dog mentioned above was a dachshund named Buddy. He belonged to Norman since he was a kid, before Frank came into their lives. Frank did not care for Buddy, and would often yell and kick at the poor thing. When Buddy was in the early double digits, Frank 'accidentally' sprayed Lysol in his eyes. No one was ever able to prove it was on purpose, though everyone suspected it was. By now, Frank had control over their finances and they could not leave. Buddy died about five years ago, at a decently old age. He fell off the porch because he could not see due to the above mentioned incident. It is a high porch for a small dog, so that was probably a real accident.
A year later, Norman found a stray cat and brought it home. Apparently it was super chill and his mom wanted to keep it. Frank said no and while Norman was out, he took the cat and dumped it on the side of the road as far away as he felt like driving. Despite their best efforts, Norman and Mr B were never able to find it.
Not long after that, Frank decided he wanted a dog. But not just any dog. A purebred toy poodle. So instead of contacting a reputable breeder or going to a shelter, he decides to buy one from a puppy store. The sort of store that gets them from mills and has them crammed two to a cage, wallowing in their own filth. The dog, Molly, turned out healthy, smart and well adjusted.
And then, six months later, Frank goes out and gets a boy, Max, because why not? Max is an anxious wreck from the get-go and remained one for some time. This is when Frank decides to start training them. Shock collars are involved. They eventually learn to not go in the house (all the time. the mansion still had piss and shit on the floor for a couple years.) Neither of the dogs get fixed right away. When Molly went into heat, Frank said 'let's see what happens' and lets them mate. This was around the time my husband started working for him because he gave me updates on the insanity.
Molly only had one litter, which happened to be born on July 4. They were penned up for a few weeks and then allowed to just run around the first floor. Frank was then bored with the dogs after the puppies' novelty wore off a month after they were born. The dogs were given to his daughter, a friend of his and a friend of Norman's. The last one, the runt, almost went to his crack dealer. Lucky for the poor little shit, my husband talked Frank into letting us have it. Frank then proceeded to ignore them most of the time. They were eventually fixed.
Their house was one of those houses were the stairs turned and there was a square gap that let you look down and see the stairs and the floor at the very bottom. The railing was on top of those bar like things. Once, Molly got stuck in the bars and was dangling off the edge, ready to drop. Lucky for her, Norman was there and got her free. She had been a few feet away from Frank and he had done nothing. Frank also hit Max once for crying because Norman's mother was gone for a while.
They once had to consider moving into a hotel. Frank's idea for the dogs was to toss them by the local shelter, despite Barbara being a fine caregiver. Not at, by. He didn't want to bother with the hassle of giving them up. Thankfully, that idea was abandoned and the dogs continue to live with Barbara. To the surprise of no one, the dogs are just fine without Frank. Their behavior and bathroom habits have improved.
I can think of better series to be a sj soapbox fam
