a three-month old puppy named Woody. He entered our lives
with a hop, skip and a whole lot of wee, and hasn’t stopped
bouncing (or weeing) since.
A few weeks in, we came to a realisation: putting together a
magazine isn’t all that different to raising a pup. In both instances,
you’ll spend your days juggling several tasks at once (like washing
the dishes with your hands while a strategically cocked leg keeps
a hungry snout out of the bin); cleaning up all manner of messes;
and – depending on your anxiety levels – referring to specialist
resources to make sure you’re doing everything right. (In one
hand, a style guide; in the other, the latest hand book from
'Dog Whisperer’ Cesar Millan.)
Yes, in some ways we were prepared for this dog-rearing
responsibility, but there was one thing that caught us totally off
guard. The fuzzy, rose-tinted glow that engulfs us every time we
arrive home to a furry backside wiggling as hard as it possibly can.
Making a mag is great and all, but where are the sloppy tongue
baths and joyful leaps when we send an issue off to print? Sadly,
they don’t exist (our colleagues may well object to a celebratory
lick). Which is just another piece of evidence to back up a case
we’ve been building for some time: there’s nothing quite like the
company of a pooch.
Sophie and the frankie team xx
recently, we added
a new member to
the frankie family:
first thought