Dog Walk Inquiries

'Can I pet your Frankie?'

Taking this question out of context can offer someone hours of euphemistic fun.
In its ACTUAL context it...er...still comes off kinda...uhm...well...off-putting.

I'll give the whole tale (or TAIL...depending on the swing on your porch):

As a proud English Bulldog owner (5 1/2 years of trundling, salivacious shits and giggles) I can tell you that I have long ago become accustomed to the typical questions thrown our way whilst out on Roger's walkies;

What kind of dog is that?
Is that a Pit Bull?
What's his name?
How much does he weigh?
What are doing on my front porch in a grass skirt holding a blazing ladle over your head like some sort of sad mockery of Lady Liberty?

Stuff like that.

The other day I added a new question to the mix while the pair of us were doing a circuit of our block...the aforementioned:

'Can I pet your Frankie?'

I spun towards the voice--the voice of a lad no more than 10 years of age--while considering what exactly he meant by my 'Frankie.'*

My mind's 'Translation' mechanism kicked into gear:
(start of Internal Dialogue)
'Frankie?...the hell does he mean by that? Some sort of new slang that I am unaware of? Does he want to pet my ding-dong? Jesus Christ...leave my Hostess Treat alone!!!'
(pause)
'Or maybe he means my soul-patch...it is kinda Zappa-esque...would a boy this young even KNOW about Frank Zappa? Even so...would he then refer to a jazz spot as a 'Frankie?'
(pause)
'Maybe he means the dog...let's try that one first before we panic further...freakin' weird ass way to solicit THAT sort of thing if you ask me.'
(end of Internal Dialogue)

I asked the kid, 'Do you mean my dog?'

'Yeah. Your dog, Frankie.'

(whew) 'Erm...my dog's name is Roger and you can pet him if he doesn't mind.'

We both look down to witness Roger chewing away at his leash completely unaware of the negotiations going on.

A quick pet on Roger's hindquarters (the area furthest away from his slobbering maw), a quick THANKS and the lad was on his way.

I never did figure out where the 'Frankie' came from. If I see him again I think I'll ask him about HIS Frankie, eh?
T
*I also noted that my hearing must be getting worse with age since this boy** managed to get within a few feet of me without any of my 'perimeter-breach-alerts' going off; normally this happens when Anyone comes up on me on my Lazy-Eye-side...
**This kid was also sporting what appeared to be a half-Kool-Aid-Van-Dyke (y'know...a more full-bodied punch-mustache that young'ns get after gulping their juice too fast). I was GOING to make mention of this when I recalled a similar situation many years ago when I pointed out to another lad that he had a piece of chocolate--a Hershey Kiss Sized piece of chocalate--stuck on his face. It turned out to be an overly large mole. Erp!!! The possibility that this was Port Wine and NOT Kool-Aid made me hold my tongue...I wasn't going to make the same mistake twice, eh?