When our house was built thirteen years ago, the walkout basement didn’t get finished correctly. We have these two, six-foot, concrete walls that were supposedly to hold back earth, but there isn’t any earth there to hold. Thus we have an eye-sore. It was one of those things we wanted to do something about, but it just never warranted the time or money to do it right.
A couple of summers ago, Chris decided to build a roof for it. He wanted to make a workshop outside so he could do his woodworking, welding, chemistry projects without destroying the basement (which he had already pretty much taken over and destroyed anyway!) After starting the project, he shattered his ankle, the same leg he’d injured so badly years before. That did not thwart his efforts. He built the thing in the driveway, from his wheelchair. Once it was finished, we carried it around the house to the walk-out.
I had all kinds of plans for the roof, making it look like thatch, lattice, something nicer than the temporary tarp we put over it to keep out the rain. It never happened. We talked about tearing it all down and starting from scratch, and then Chris died. I couldn’t bear to tear apart this thing he worked so hard to build.
Yesterday, we had a proper roof put on the frame. It looks great. And here’s where the Frankie D story comes in…
Preparing for the guys to do their thing yesterday morning, Frankie D picked up an old, cloth potting container and disturbed the little mouse who’d built a home in it. He felt awful, but it had to be moved. Last night, the first thing he did when he got home was go look at the great job the guys did. The second thing he did was put the pot back so the little mouse could come home. He checked on it later, and sure enough, the mouse was there. He was so happy. It was adorable. I can bet without fear of losing that he’ll be putting bird seed out there through the winter.
My Frankie D. This is why I keep him around when there are times I want to strangle him.