Thursday “Throwback” Thoughts – May 11, 2023 Edition: Dogs Part 4

I know I have photos of Spanky Marie somewhere…real photos, not digital. I have boxes of pictures somewhere. But not where I can put my hands on them. Because she looked like the character that she was. When I’ve talked to people over the years about their dogs, most will compare all others to one – one special dog that stood out above all others for one reason or another. Spanky Marie was that dog to me.

Spanky, like most of my dogs, was a rescue. I got her from a shelter. She was about 4 months old, and was part poodle and part hammerhead…at least, that’s how she looked. With soft wavy hair that curled in spots, and a head that was half the size of her very long body, on extremely short legs, she looked like she was going to tip over forward, her head was so big. I thought she was quite strange. But they told me her mom was a basset hound and had me feel her leg joints as if to prove it. And she was mixed with terrier they thought, maybe? I never knew. But I took her home.

From day 1 one she was independent and full of herself. She house-trained easily; in fact, she trained easily. I kept her with me at all times and within days she was at my side during every waking hour. Where I went, she went; what I did, she, well, watched at least. She never strayed from my side. I’m not sure I ever – and I mean EVER – even put a leash on her.

Eventually she grew into her head but she always had those strange legs, toed out with joints that felt almost inside out under all the hair. They never got more than 5″ long, and her body was probably several times that length. I was thankful that when her body grew, her head didn’t. She wasn’t tall or big but her body weighed a lot more than it should have. A 25-pound dog in a 42-pound body. I never got over how much heavier she was than she looked.

Because she was firmly and utterly convinced that her ownership of me made her the Most Important Dog, she could afford to look down on all other dogs. The best word to describe her attitude was supercilious. When I worked in a veterinary clinic she was usually there with me. When I was working in the lab, for example, she’d lay under the lab table at my feet as I sat at the microscope…many people and animals passed by and she never budged, nobody really knew she was there. But it wasn’t great training that kept her from reacting. Oh no, she just knew they weren’t worth her time!

Because she was so hairy she required regular grooming, and I always got her a Dandie Dinmont cut. It suited her quite well actually. But grew out so fast that I swore I’d never have another dog that required regular haircuts!

I can’t possibly tell her whole story. But there are some memories that I’d love to share…

For a while I lived on a horse farm. The owner did boarding, and had a carriage service. Spanky walked among the hooves whether they belonged to my donkey or the Belgian team we had there. Because, whether I was grooming or cleaning or feeding, she was of course with me. I never knew how she didn’t get stomped. She got along with all of them except my donkey, who she teased mercilessly for some reason. I know he’d have trampled her if he’d ever gotten the chance; she must have gotten her quick reactions from her father’s side of the family though…

Anyway, one day after working with the horses I was on my way into the house and noticed that she wasn’t at my side. I called and called to her, and didn’t see her run in from the pasture (which had a pond that she loved to swim in!)…she had vanished. I looked everywhere for her. Knowing that I was never out of her sight I was starting to panic. It was quite a while before I finally found her, in one of the stalls where the door had apparently closed behind me. She was sitting just inside the door, quietly waiting for me to come along and let her out. When I did, she just walked with me up to the house, it was no big deal to her, she knew I would come.

After living on the horse farm I shared an apartment with a friend who had 2 husky mixed dogs. The male – whose name escapes me – used to like to come into my room for some attention now and again, which Spanky hated. She used to growl at him, her hair standing along her back…carrying a sock. Yes, she had a sock in her mouth and would walk circles around him or try to stay between us, growling through the sock the whole time, looking sideways at him. It made the most ridiculous image I’ve ever seen, and it was nearly impossible not to laugh, which would have insulted her terribly!

This apartment was right in town, in Northville, MI. I used to walk with her around the block most days. One day there was a tennis ball laying next to the sidewalk. She picked it up without missing a beat and carried it all the way back home.

Spanky Marie…her name…well, I just chose Spanky when I got her. But at the time I was still in Ohio and my roommate was Catholic. I used to add “Mary” of “Marie” or “Marion” or whatever to names – she’d mention a friend named, for example, Jean and I’d say, “Jean Marie?” (which she actually was)…and so it was a natural thing to tag Marie onto Spanky’s name just to make my roommate roll her eyes when I said it.

I could write all night about Spanky, if I still had all of my memories of her, but of all the dogs I’ve had she is the one I remember the most. I never “trained” her, just spoke to her constantly, as she was constantly with me; I’d describe whatever I was doing, and why, and what we were going to do next, and anything else that came to mind. She listened intently to every word I said, and as time went on she understood most of them. I’d talk to her in conversational tones and she would respond appropriately.

One thing I will always remember: She loved everybody – EVERYBODY! – except my first husband. He’s the only person she ever bit. She never liked him, and never trusted him. I would have saved myself a lot of pain and grief if I hadn’t brushed off her warnings to me…then again, I wouldn’t have my daughter, either…

Spanky was about 10 or 11 when Casey was born. She’d always been my “only child” until that point, and I didn’t know how she would handle a “sister”. I needn’t have worried. Spanky sat with me and Casey, and watched over the new baby, and took my attention when she could get it, now that she had to share my time.

Spanky lived to be 16. I was down in northern Florida with her and it was hot. HOT! And extremely muggy. The kind of humidity that makes your clothes mold after a few hours on the line. It was miserable. And Spanky wanted to be outside. She was laying on the back porch on her side, and when I called her in she didn’t want to get up. She was very weak and her breathing was labored. I took her to the vet, who explained to me that she could probably give her a few more months with me, but that they likely wouldn’t be happy months, and she wouldn’t be healthy. As I was considering her words, Spanky looked up at me and spoke to me with her eyes. It was as clear as a voice: “Please…I can’t…” And so that day I said goodbye to my Spanky Marie.

There was no place I couldn’t take Spanky, and nothing I could ask of her than she wouldn’t do – nor was there anything that I wouldn’t do for her. She and I were stuck together like glue, and where one of us was, there was the other. For 16 years. I couldn’t imagine life without her, though in the end, I had to learn what that would be. And it was even more awful than I could have thought it was; I thought my heart would never mend. And then came Icy…but first, I will need to tell you about Mick – the dog that I will never, ever, forgive myself for…next week.

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