Not just loyal, but obedient. I never knew how important those qualities were.
A beautiful creature.
Bear with me as I publicly grieve the loss of my friend, and process it all. ALL.
Spence was my hub's dog, he was one of the gifts in our marriage. He was my step-son's "brother", as they were only months apart in age.
(I dread this afternoon, when I break the news. I'm crying in advance.)
We called him "airplane ears", "old man", & "squiggle-butt" - because when he got excited to see us, his tail would wag so hard that his rear-end would swing around next to his head. Hilarious to see, really.
He was, at times, so human. His compassion for us when we were hurting or sad was unbelievable.
Other times, he was so...dog.
So many memories... He just turned 13 years old last month, and I've known him for the last 8 1/2.
He adapted to all of the other animals in our house and on our farm so well. Some better than others, (any chicken. any guinea hen. mice. Levi).
He got into a fight with Levi in the driveway one day, it was by far the most brutal thing I've ever witnessed. I had no control over what was going on, I couldn't get either one to stop. Horrible.
Anyways. After bringing him home from the vet with stitches, drainage tubes in his neck, I laid him on the couch. Our cat instantly laid up against him, purring her heart out, soothing his pain.
I sat on the floor, just stroking his fur, comforting him, for hours. I remember getting up to go to the restroom, and he cried and cried and cried. I couldn't leave his side until Daddy came home.
I remember when my hub returned from deployment, after 5 months away.
I pulled into the driveway, and G hid on the side of the garage while I ran in the house to get the dogs. They ran out to greet me, and G walked around the corner... oh.my.gosh. Talk about an excited pup!! He jumped all over him, whining, crying, barking, yipping, jumping all over the place!
One winter, I let the dogs out in the morning. I watched them bee-line towards the back forty, like any other morning. Thirty minutes later we called them back to the house. The first two dogs come back, slowly dragging swollen bellies. It was hunting season, so we figured they found some one's deer-gut-bucket castoffs. When off in the distance, here comes Spencer, trotting happily... with something huge and floppy hanging out of his mouth. As he approaches, we try not to laugh out loud, seeing the deer liver barely hanging in between his lips. He stops at my hub's feet, gently lays down the liver, butt just-a-swinging, smiling up at him. "Look what I brought for you, Dad!!"
No matter how old Spence was, if it snowed here in NC, he reverted back into an energetic, spastic puppy. Jumping, hopping, spinning, flipping, putting his face under the snow, then throwing his head in the air, watching the snow fly off his head.
Spencer could dig a hole to China, as long as a mouse or mole once occupied said hole. He would dig with such purpose, fast and furious, then cram his shepherd nose all the way into the hole he dug, until only his eyeballs were exposed. We would get him riled up, instigating him, just because it was super-duper amusing!
He was the protector of our canine family; and of myself and the boy. God forbid if anyone tried to come at us - the distance between a threat and his charge grew immensely when he stood in the gap.
One night we were sitting at the fire pit with the neighbor, in the middle of the night (yes, it was one of those nights) when we saw someone walk up and down the street one time too many. We live in the country; there's no gas stations, stores or payphones. So anyone walking the streets out here is, 9.9 times out of 10, up to no good. Especially at that time of night. My hubs, the neighbor, and Spencer all crept to the road, hidden in the shadows. They met the suspicious individual in a particularly dark spot in the road, and confronted him. First, with voices. They surrounded him. Hubs was holding a flashlight on him, from high in the air. The neighbor asked him what he was doing, right at the moment the light lit up his face. All the while, Spencer was walking in a circle behind them all, growling...
Between the voice coming from one spot, a light in his face from somewhere else, and the growls coming from different places, well, we never saw that guy again.
Before me & the hubs moved into the house we built, we lived in a farmhouse on the edge of a bean field. The beans were tall that summer. I only remember this because Spence and my Welsh Corgi ran out into the beans, and the corgi got lost. We called for her, and Spence kept leaping in the air, trying to see her. We'd see bean plants moving, then Spence would hop. More beans moving, and another straight up in the air hop by the dog. Over and over. We couldn't stop laughing!
One day we were working on some landscaping in the front yard. The dogs were out running around, doing God only knows what. (I'd soon find out) Once the work was done, and it was time for dinner to get started, I looked over to see Spencer laying out in the grass, chewing on something. I ran over to investigate, only to see him gnawing on a rabbit head...One ear gone, one eyeball hanging out.
Gross.
So I took him inside, along with the other dogs and the boy, while hubs discarded of the softball sized rabbit head.
The boy went to the right to the laundry room to take his shoes off, while I went left to the kitchen to wash the dirt from under my fingernails. A few minutes later, we met in the middle, in the foyer. We were both drawn to a quarter-sized spot of what looked like water, right in the middle of the floor. We looked at the spot on the floor, then at each other, then, as if choreographed, he looked right, I looked left.
And saw the carnage.
Imagine this, if you will...
In the middle of the day, summer time, so the sun is just getting to the point in the sky where it's starting to filter through the french doors in the living room. An invisible sadist has taken a bunny rabbit, and stuffed in to a chipper-shredder. The switch is flicked on, and in an instant, the ENTIRE living room is covered in blood and bunny bits. The sadist and the chipper shredder disappear, and in his spot, stands Spencer. Head down, barely looking at me, tail between his legs.
Moving on.
Spencer loved going to the woods with us... that's where the squirrels are! He would take off after anything, and be gone for what seemed like hours. Then return, giddy, and lay down wherever we were.
Happy dog!!
One night, we were getting ready to go to bed. The dogs had been out, and were settling in. All of a sudden, Spencer stands up, in the middle of the living room, and pukes something huge up.
Whatever it is, it looks like it's whole. And, it has fur.
Have you ever had one of those moments where you can't believe what just happened, where morbid curiosity takes the place of "clean it up!!!"? We were crouched over the first gift, when he walks four feet away, and pukes up the rest of it.
It is then that we see, with the two pieces of the puzzle together now, what used to be a squirrel.
He got up on the couch, laid down, and went to sleep.
He has eaten whole flocks of guineas, plenty of our chickens, too numerous to count deer parts,squirrels, rabbits, and God knows what else.
But he was our loyal, well-deserving buddy. He got snacks, treats and privileges the others didn't.
And he did the dishes every once in a while.
Now the painful part.
Spencer was getting old. I mean, come on, he was 13. His hearing was just about completely gone. His kidneys and/or bladder didn't have the capacity it used to. It took him a whole lot more effort to get on and off the couch, not to mention just get up from laying down.
My biggest fear was since he was just about deaf, he'd be out running around, go to cross the street, and not hear an oncoming vehicle.
And that's exactly what happened yesterday afternoon.
When something like this happens, you kind of go into autopilot mode, and I did, taking care of everything that had to be done.
There's something tragically beautiful in how we treat our animals when they die. The longest walk of my life, carrying my buddy's broken and bloody body, tears pouring down my face, dropping onto his shedding fur. Our other dogs saying goodbye before we buried him. It's always the one you least expect to be affected, that breaks your heart. Squatty smelled Spencer, sat down at his head, and started trembling, and would.not.leave.his.side.
I lost it.
This morning I was praying, just longing for the comfort that comes in the Presence.
It came. And remains. For now, I'm not weeping at the drop of a hat, or at the sight of Spencer's food bowl, or the blanket he laid on every night, or the memories that come flooding back. For now.
We were so incredibly blessed to have this dog in our lives as long as we did. He lived a good life, and set a standard in our hearts for (canine) loyalty, faithfulness, and obedience. His passing was instant; merciful, considering the situation.
I'm still processing the effect he's made on my life, and learning the lessons from him, that we so often ignore. But, if ever a dog is crowned royalty, there is none more deserving than him.
We love you Spencer.
