It was inevitable.

Move to a Caribbean Island. Adopt a crazy island puppy. Fall irrevocably in love with puppy. Write a song about her. Unnecessarily, share song lyrics in an equally unnecessary post.

But first, our story – in three acts.

 

 

ACT ONE

Scene: Island Vet’s Office

Characters: Savvy Vet Tech, Girlfriend, Me, Ridiculously Adorable Island Puppy

Savvy Vet Tech: “Do you guys want a puppy? We just need someone to foster her for a few nights while we find someone to adopt her.”

Holds Ridiculously Adorable Island Puppy in the air.

Girlfriend: “Yes!”

Me: “No!”

Lights fade on Savvy Vet Tech handing Ridiculously Adorable Island Puppy to Girlfriend.

Savvy Vet Tech: “P.S. She’s a screamer…”

 

 

 

ACT TWO

Scene: Quickly edited montage inside and outside of a cheerful Caribbean home.

Characters: Ridiculous Adorable Island Puppy now named Frances, French Bulldog brother named Wembley, Girlfriend and Me now Moms

Lighthearted music plays while Frances frolics in her new home, plays with Wembley, snuggles in bed with her Moms. Music turns darker, more ominous. Frances erratically runs through the house knocking over expensive electronics, destroys furniture, jumps on and bites Moms until their clothes are torn and they bleed. The theme from Psycho plays as Moms fearfully hide in the bathroom while Frances repeatedly hurls herself at the door. Fade to black.

 

ACT THREE

Scene: Time has passed. Frances is now an adult dog and even more gorgeous. Wembley and Moms are intact, but haggard. This act is told in a series of expressively captured stills.

Characters: Frances, Wembley, Moms, a hapless herd of goats

First still is Frances curled on the couch next to her brother. She rests her head lovingly against his shoulder. She is bathed in an angelic light.

Second still is Frances viciously pinning her brother to the ground, captured at the height of a violent fight. Blood spurts in a delicate arc from a puncture wound in Wembley’s arm.

Third still is Frances, back hair raised and teeth bared, aggressively barking at a herd of goats she has chased to the top of a neighbor’s dilapidated roof. The goats are dangerously close to the edge. Frances appears to be smiling.

Fourth still is Frances stretched out in bed between her Moms, forcing them into contorted positions. Her head rests squarely on the pillows while her Moms’ heads hang awkwardly off the bed. A fitting end to a long and eventful day.

So with that, may I present my Ode to the dog who has stolen my heart, and perhaps, my reason. In my head the tune is a jangly, folksy one played on ukulele. But I think an operatic aria or death metal anthem could work just as well.

 

 

Frances is the Hairy Princess

Verse 1:

When Frances was a little pups
She had teeth sharp as knives
She tore our arms and limbs to shreds
Until we ran for our lives

Chorus:

Oh! Frances is the Hairy Princess
And she’s got a mind of her own
She’ll do just what she wants to do
So you better leave her alone

Verse 2:

If you say stay she’ll run away
If you say sit she’ll jump
If you say vote for Hillary Clinton
You know she’s gonna vote for Trump

Chorus:

Oh! Frances is the Hairy Princess
And she’s got a mind of her own
She’ll do just what she wants to do
So you better leave her alone

Bridge:

Frances, Oh Frances
She looks so nice and sweet
Frances, Oh Frances
But if you cross her you’re dead meat

Verse 3:

Frances is now all grown up
But she ain’t one bit changed
And if you ever think she’ll bend to your will
Then you must be deranged

Chorus:

Oh! Frances is the Hairy Princess
And she’s got a mind of her own
She’ll do just what she wants to do
So you better leave her alone

Bridge:

Frances, Oh Frances
She looks so nice and sweet
Frances, Oh Frances
But if you cross her you’re dead meat

Frances is the Hairy Princess. And she’s got a mind of her own.