Lassie Asshole: The Lhasa Apso Who Had To Find His Girl

You see me. I know you see me. How could you not see me? You see me. You definitely see me. Hi! Hi!

This is Lassie Asshole (his name might have been changed as a result of this story, but just go with it) and once upon a time he met a girl, and he LOVED his girl.

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This is his girl. We'll call her Peanut. You know Peanut. 

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Peanut also has some friends. We'll call them Sassafrass and Sisterfrass. Collectively, they are the Frasses. We like the Frasses. 

The Frasses and Peanut spend a lot of time going back and forth between the Frass house and our house. It's easy because we live within walking/biking distance from each other—just under a mile or so. Sometimes the Frasses or Peanut will behave as though Mama Frass and I are one person and think that because they've told one of us where they are that we both know where they are and this doesn't always translate into reality quite how they planned, but that's not what this story is about.

The Frasses also have a canine. Her name is Olive the Other Reindeer. Actually, it's probably just Olive, but that's not going to work for this story. Lassie Asshole can't be hanging out with Just Olive. Lassie Asshole goes on long walks in the open space with Olive the Other Reindeer. Just look at this picture if you aren't convinced Olive the Other Reindeer is her Actual Factual Name:

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Image credit: Sisterfrass

(I might've stolen this from Sisterfrass's FB, but I did give her credit, so ya know, it's all good and could lead to fame and fortune for her and Olive the Other Reindeer.)

Olive the Other Reindeer and Lassie Asshole take walks together. On occasion. The Frasses and Peanut supervise these outings. Sometimes other dogs join them, since Sisterfrass has a bit of a dog walking biz going. Sometimes the dogs hang out in our courtyard for a little playdate while the Frasses and Peanut cool off in the pool on a hot day or the dogs play a rousing game of fetch under the shade of the ash tree with the many tennis balls acquired from our generous neighbor boys and their need to throw balls over fences.

Then Lassie Asshole stays here at Casa Best Together in his sweet digs with the insulated roof and custom window that looks in upon his people while the rest of the canines head back to their respective homes. Peanut assists in this process, and if it's a weekend she's likely going to spend the night with the Frasses. Because teens cannot be parted. We know this. It's THE LAW. 

Sweet digs, Carlito.

It also turns out that Lassie Asshole: the dog who does not bark; the dog who does not leave the unfenced portion of our yard unless on his leash and being asked to leave; the dog who only comes inside when invited—Lassie Asshole is under the impression that he, too, is required to remain with His Girl Peanut. Always. 

The first time we discovered this was a day when the little people were playing in the courtyard and coming and going through the gate to go out to their horse swing in the big tree in the outer yard. No big deal. Lassie Asshole never leaves the yard. An open gate isn't a dog issue. The pool gate remains closed for safety, but the courtyard gate can be opened as long as we know who's where with regard to little people. People. Not dog. People.

Peanut had departed on her bike. A 'Frass of one flavor or the other was with her. 

A brief period of time passed.

I decide to do phone. Not really decide. I receive a phone call. It gets interrupted by crazy, frantic Peanut who arrived home tear-soaked, inconsolable, because LASSIE ASSHOLE TRIED TO FOLLOW HER AND NEARLY GOT RUN OVER. He'd noticed her departing, made his way out the gate, and headed down our very busy street as fast as his squat little legs could carry him to find HIS GIRL. What he failed to account for were the cars. Holy crap, the cars. 

Somehow, he lived. Unscathed. And we vowed to be ever-vigilant about THE GATE. 

We were thankful. Incredibly thankful. They'd only gone maybe a quarter-mile or less. Still, it was a long haul for such a short dog. He was a determined little dude. This Lhasa Apso clearly thought he was Lassie. 

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This would probably be a good time to introduce the Frasses' dad, Father Frass. He's tallish. I mean, like even for my family. For example, at the last birthday party we hosted, I suggested the kids climb him rather than the tree. 

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So you can understand why Peanut and the Frasses woke Father Frass when they heard a scratching sound at the Frass's front door at 3am during their next sleepover. You expect to find some scary shit on the other side of a door emitting scratching sounds at that hour. And you want a giant-sized person to handle that. 

There was extensive debate about what they'd find behind the door. At 3am. Scratching.

Based on the text I awoke to later that morning I can tell you exactly what was found .7 miles away on that porch, at the door, at 3am. And I still have no idea how, under the cloak of night, using his best ninja skills, Lassie Asshole made it all the way to their house.

This muppet-head is excited about the pool's official opening almost as much as the critters who get to swim in it.

But he did.

He knew exactly where to go to find His Girl. 

He walked his squat butt up to that door and scratched until they let him in. Nearly a mile from his home, which he won't leave unless he is on a leash, or he has to find HIS GIRL.

Fucker.