The Ballad of Frick and Frack

Frick and Frack

Warning! Cuteness Overload! And, perhaps a bit of sadness.

I write the following today to remember a great love and friendship before it has time to pass from my mind, as most things do as we move on in life. Pictured to the right are Frick and Frack. It really doesn't matter who "Frick" or "Frack" is. What is important is that tender, and rare, relationship between cat and dog who find each other at the right time.

Frick and Frack at rest. A rare moment.

We didn't do this by design. That would have been far too easy and somewhat impossible. This relationship was completely by chance. It just worked. Somehow, it just worked. The decade that followed was pure magic.

The dog, Bandana, a "Heinz 57" mix of herding breeds, was discovered on a working horse ranch in Southern Oregon. His owner, Tenaya Yager, made the painful decision to part with him during our 2010 visit. Lenny, the Maine Coon cat, was a gift from Mary Beth Barber. She discovered a litter of feral kittens in the sub-basment beneath her Sacramento home in 2011. She rescued them and bottle-fed and cared for each one before presenting Lenny as a gift.

The Kiss

The cats that my ex-wife, Venus, and I had at home never did care for Bandana after we brought her home. That is a kind way of describing it. Outright revolt, revulsion and disowning us as cat owners would be a more correct description. But all of that changed a year after adopting Bandana when we opened our home to Lenny. One lick from Bandana was all it took, and the legend of Frick and Frack was born. The two immediately fell in love with one another and were constant companions and partners in crime. They never left each other's side.

I thank the Good Lord that digital photography came into vogue by 2011. Otherwise, we would have enriched the makers of Kodak or Polaroid film by another million bucks or two. Frick and Frack would come to dominate photos and social media postings over the next decade. Who could possibly ignore that cuteness overload? The two would get into one adorable pose after another, usually around dinner or snack time. Or, if they wanted something we were eating at the dinner table. Which is usually what Frick and Frack did at dinner time 365 days a year. These two had discovered a couple of human SUCKERS, and took full advantage of it.

Frack on Frick

Here is a photo of Frick and Frack on the couch. Or a photo of Frick and Frack on the floor. Oh look! Frick and Frack are curled up on the bed together! Here are Frick and Frack outside, checking out the garden. "Is that dog lying on top of that cat???" This is a common question we received on Facebook, Twitter, Google or any other place we deposited multitudes of pet photos. "Why yes she is," came our response. "Pay no mind," we would respond. "They just want snacks." What we didn't say is that most of the time Frick and Frack were rewarded with any snack they wanted.

Did You Say Snacks?

If these two partners in pet crime weren't in one adorable pose or another, they were usually putting on one of their typical Battle Royale rumbles in the living or dining room. It would start when Frack would chomp on Frick's fuzzy tail and pull on it like a tug toy, which ultimately resulted in a massive, full-claw return swat from Frick. The battle was on. Or, sometimes it was Frick who put on his best Tiger Tank Surprise Attack from the rear, hitting Frack full-force when she wasn't looking or was peacefully sleeping. The battle, which never really ended between the two, was on again. The two proceeded to roll around on the floor for the next 5-10 minutes, usually knocking over whatever was in their path. Many chairs and even one Christmas tree met its demise when these two decided it was time for non-stop action.

Wandering the Garden

The battle took on a new form whenever we took Frack (the dog) for a walk. Frick would follow for awhile, but never lose sight of his home. It wasn't that he was scared, he just preferred to stay behind and plan his attack after Frack returned 30 minutes later. Frack always suspected that Frick would be up to something, waiting to unleash a surprise attack. Frick would never disappoint Frack, launching himself from underneath a bush, a parked car, from behind a pillar of bricks and, at least one time, with a flying leap from the roof. I have to admit, I was surprised with that mode of attack myself.

No matter how brutal the previous play session had been, Frick and Frack always made sure to position themselves into the most ridiculous and adorable pose possible after play time subsided and dinner time arrived. That's just who they were. They spent a lifetime irritating and loving one another. They were never apart. They were always by each other's side.

Chairs are for Frick and Frack

Did I mention how carefully they planned an assault on the vegetable garden AFTER Venus and I had carefully planted tomato plant starters on top of smelly fish heads? On the best garden advice available at the time? We came home the next day to find 16-tomato plants dug out of raised beds and a few paltry bits of those fish heads that we thought we had buried deeply enough to guard against theft. The culprits had dirty paws and full bellies. Frick and Frack had struck again. It was a team effort.

Stop here. Don't read any further. Because all good things do eventually come to a tragic end. I will keep this as short as I can.

Your bed? Not anymore!

As the years flew by, the play and antics subsided somewhat. Play time morphed into a lot of nap time for the both of them. But, they were still together. There came a point, however, where Bandana, the Frack, grew tired. A limp that developed after she had stumbled into a gopher hole worsened. Herding dogs like Border Collies, McNab Shepherds and Aussie Shepherds are very hyperactive as young adults. But when they begin to slide downhill, the end seems to take place very quickly. Bandana was no different. Frack passed in February of this year. I held her close as she took her last breath. I promised I would never forget the "Blonde Bombshell." The neighborhood children simply adored her.

Although I gave Frick all the love and attention I possibly could after losing his Frack, he followed a short time later. His last act was to crawl underneath my bed, where Frack had spent part of her final year. It's where he drew his last breath. That was yesterday. I'm a still a bit emotional at the moment, so please forgive me. I'm not going to bore you with all the visits to the veterinarian that took place and all the solutions that were prescribed over the last six months. Needless to say, none of them worked. It's tough to heal a broken heart.

Frick with his new Frack

I can only say that I tried my best to engage Frick. At one point I even adopted another Frack from the Bradshaw Animal Shelter in Sacramento County. It stopped Frick's slide. For a little while. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't the answer. I don't know if there was a solution. If there was one, I didn't find it.

We never forgot the kindness of both Tenaya and Mary Beth. They were reminded of the gifts they had bestowed every time a picture was posted on any social media account, which must have numbered in the hundreds through the years. We made sure that both saw each ridiculous Frick and Frack pose and moment.

"I talk about Bandana a lot," Tenaya admitted after calling to console me following Frack's passing last February. "The decision I made to give her to you was a validation of what I would become. I unite pets with people."

Marybeth also checked in to thank me for being a good cat "papa."

This relationship between dog and cat is not unique. Perhaps  you have been graced by a Frick and Frack in your lifetime. It is my sincere hope that you have. I have had no greather joy in life than to witness the love and joy that Frick and Frack demonstrated time and again. They are just memories now. Memories that I will never forget. I have to move on now. I will move on. But I will never forget.

Our "Man" Hank

Say Hello to Hank. Hank's our "man." If Hank can't do it, nobody can.

Hank -- as in "Hank the Hummer," aka, "Hank the Hummingbird," aka, "Hank the Tank." This is the only feathered creature in the backyard that our four hunter-killer cats will run in terror from -- and for good reason.

Hank means bidness. He's not just any Hummer. He's a mean one. He makes the Grinch look warm and fuzzy. And "Hank" has made himself a permanent part of the Bird Backyard -- thanks in part to the well stocked backyard bar that features a full-sized and never-empty Hummingbird Feeder.

Nope -- Hank has it good in the Back 40. Better yet -- our fine feathered friend knows it.

He's right at home as far as our presence in the yard is concerned. In fact -- Hank will be the first to greet any human or four-legged creature that wanders into the yard. You can always locate him from from his distinctive "tick-tick-tick" chirp as he boldly greets just about any visitor.

Research tells me that Hank is a common Black-chinned Hummingbird -- with one major difference. Hank forgot to fly south for the winter and appears intent upon hanging around the bird-feeder -- rain, shine or deep freeze. I do worry about him somewhat because he appears to be all alone -- but those fears may be unfounded.

Hummingbirds are just part of the Sacramento Gardening lifestyle. The more garden you have -- the more hummingbirds you have. And Hank appears to be right at home.

He certainly isn't camera shy -- that much I can tell you. Hank will let me walk to within inches of his pointy beak and snap away with the digital camera. He seems to understand that I have invested in the cheapest digital camera known to mankind -- and also understands it takes at least 10-15 shots to get one decent photograph.

No matter. Hank the Hummingbird is one cool customer.

Although most of our cats couldn't catch a bird unless it flew directly into their mouths -- we are blessed to have at least one birder in the bunch. Precious means business with the unfortunate sparrows who get too close to the ground. She got two of them last week alone unfortunately.

But our little Precious has met her match it seems in Hank the Hummingbird. First of all -- Hank can spot even the most ingenious of disguises -- confounding that cat's best efforts. He thinks nothing about zipping by that little lady's head -- knowing she's always going to be two seconds too slow with the outstretched claw.

And should Precious make the mistake of getting a tad too close to Hank's Hummingbird feeder -- she is routinely dive-bombed and harassed until she makes a beeline back into the safety of the house.

Hank means bidness. He is the Tweety Bird response to her best Sylvester routine. Better yet -- he's the source of the best backyard entertainment any gardener could ever witness.

I do worry about him though. I know his nest is probably close by -- but since most trees in the neighborhood are still very small -- no matter where Hank builds -- he's in danger from predators like Precious. My fear is he's made his home in one of the many rosebushes around the backyard -- rosebushes that will be pruned back later this winter. Or he just might be located in a tangle of tomato bushes that I haven't torn out yet (hey! It's cold out there!).

I've always been a fan of hummingbirds in the yard. Mom had a feeder in our Modesto backyard for ages -- but the true hummingbird show came from my oldest sister -- Debbie. Deb's feeder -- hung near the back porch of her Kings Canyon National Park home -- wouldn't attract just one or two hummingbirds.

Nope -- Deb's feeder attracted a certifiable army. Better yet -- you could hear them coming from a mile away once she put the feeder out. If you were brave enough -- and calm enough -- you could stand right next to that feeder with thirty to forty hummingbirds whizzing and clicking past your head and one or two just might land on your shoulder.

We don't have that kind of show yet in our North Natomas backyard. But -- like other efforts -- it's a "work in progress." Hank likes it sure enough. Let's hope a few more friends move on in.

Precious is waiting.