Spaz: 1990 - 2004

My Dog Spaz.

My Best Friend.

she came to the farm from a neighbor's house--the only puppy to escape the abuse and death of her littermates. she would cross the highway to eat our garbage, never to get too close to anyone. we could tell she wanted to play and be friendly, but she wouldn't allow anyone to get near. for a shy 12-year old farm kid, she was the perfect rehab project.



at first, she'd only come to me--to grab a nibble of food and run away. she would stay longer and longer with each mouthful of food, until i was finally able to pet her and get her to play. with a grin from ear to ear, and a thump of her front paws on the ground, she was ready to run! her favorite game was tag--she'd make random laps around the yard and zing by me at top speed, just close enough to feel the wind. i remember clocking her running at 27 mph alongside the family car--she was fast for a mutt! her crazy energy, zigzag running, and rubbery antics earned the name Spastic--which was quickly shortened to Spaz. (if you remember, in the early 90's, "spaz" was the word to use-- "don't have a spaz, man!") one day, mom asked me if i had come up with a better name for the dog--a better name?? Spaz was perfect!



eventually she took up night residence on the porch, and that new years eve, i predicted that she'd be living in the house in 1991--much to mom's chagrin. i succeeded in getting her into the house, with the help of the winter weather. from that point on, she was in like flynn.

she was damaged goods for a long time until she finally accepted that humans aren't all bad. she'd rarely ever bark unless she absolutely had to, and even then it was a muted, "excuse me" style bark. i remember one time in particular when she started approaching people--one night at dinner, she nosed my sister-in-law's hand from under the table with a cold wet nose. my sis-in-law wasn't expecting it and she let out a startled shout, which also scared the dog. we joked that the episode probably set spaz back a couple years in development, but she was just fine (and so was my sis-in-law.)


Spaz initiates new dog Silkie to the farm--with gentle play

she was my buddy during those awkward early teenage years. we'd hang out together. work on the farm together. ride four wheelers together. my grandma marveled at how that dog would incessantly follow me up and down the fields as i raked hay with the tractor on those hot july days. she probably ran 10 miles a day in the hot sun--not bad for a husky/collie mix with 2" of thick white arctic fur. she would also follow me for miles on the four wheeler--running so far and so fast she'd be panting for hours after we stopped. she was never much of a swimmer, though--she'd never go into the swimming pond past her belly, no matter how hot she was.

we had a lot in common--we were both shy adolescents who didn't care much for anyone else's company but our own--but we both grew out of it over time. she mellowed, and i opened up. by the time i headed for college, we were both pretty normal teenagers.


Spaz and Flash--hunting partners

in recent years, we'd hang out whenever i came home from morrisville and cornell. and of course, i got to see her every couple weeks even now when i come home from syracuse for sunday dinners. you know how it goes--you move out, the dog stays, and you start to go in different directions. but she was always my Spazdog, my puppydog, my dawg. and whenever the family spoke to spaz in reference to me, i was "Her Boy". neither of us could ever escape the image of a 12-year old kid with a furry white dog tagging along...

...not that i wanted to.

-------

mom called me yesterday to tell me that spaz had a stroke and was not doing well. it came as no surprise--she was now nearly 15, and has had a series of health problems over the last few years. she hadn't been able to live up to her name in quite some time. i wasn't sure what the stroke would mean--maybe it was minor; hopefully she'd be alright. but then again, she was already on borrowed time. later that night i was told that if i wanted to see her again, i'd better come now, because she was getting worse.

i went home to the farm this morning to see her. she had that familiar grin on her face when she saw me and smelled my hand, but with her head tilted and nose running, it was obvious she wasn't ok. she hadn't eaten in 2 days. she couldn't walk without going in circles and falling. she couldn't go out alone; she'd struggle to get back to the door, ending up in circles further and further away from the house. she could no longer make her body do what her mind wanted.

unfortunately, it was time--something i've been dreading for years. it time for her last trip to the vet.

fittingly, the Scrambler played the role of the hearse--the jeep, the dog, and i have been a trio for a long time. at the clinic, i simply had to be in there as the deed was done--there was no way i could walk out and wait. i had to be with my dog to the very end. i was there by her side in the vet's office, petting her, scratching her ears, calming her down, and being Her Boy--until her last breath.

she may be gone now, but her legacy lives on in layers and layers of the World's Most Stubborn White Dog Hair that covers every fabric surface of my parent's house. she'll always be there--if only in fur that will never totally go away, no matter how hard mom vacuums.

with dad's help, i buried her under the pine tree in the backyard--in a grassy area with all the other animals that have come and gone over the years. but for me, she's the best one. the best damn dog a boy could want. in the spring, she will have white flowers.

she was my best friend.

it's hard not to cry. i've done that enough today.



goodbye, spaz. i love you.