by Shauna Kirk

Created on: January 30, 2007   Last Updated: May 14, 2007

We all knew that Spanky was an old dog. Spanky was a black Cocker/Springer Spaniel mix. We paid $150.00 for him, and $150.00 was more than half of what we brought home each week. The kids wanted a dog, so we had to get him. He had been with us for almost 15 years, since he was just 12 weeks old, when he died.

When we brought him home to the kids, we told them he was John's pet. Only because John was older than Angela and that meant that he would have poop duty. It only took us 2 weeks to potty train him, so the advantage of John being the master over Angela was short lived.

The kids even decided Spanky needed a pacifier like any baby would. We eventually weaned Spanky of the pacifier, some 2 or 3 years later though! He had become a true member of our little family. John would get on his skateboard and Spanky would pull him up and down the street. John and Spanky nurtured a very tight bond.

When John graduated from High School, he joined the Marines. I tell you, the entire time he was in boot camp, Spanky laid at our front door with his nose at the bottom crack, faithfully waiting for his master to return home.

John came home from boot camp and Spanky was elated! Shortly thereafter, John was sent to Arizona for training and Spanky regained his spot at the front door waiting for his master's return. With every return home, Spanky became himself again, however, over the years it did take its toll on him.

John began to dread the time he would come home and Spanky wouldn't have survived his long wait at the door. What we all began to face as an inevitable event, soon surfaced.

While John was on a training trip in Norway, Spanky died, you guessed it, at the back door, with his nose at the bottom crack, faithfully waiting for his master to come home.

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