It's been a rough two weeks for this girl in the city. I hope no one will mind, but in this blog entry I need to discuss something unrelated to soap operas.
On July 15, 2006, I had to put to sleep my beloved Spanky- a darling Peekapoo who filled my life with joy, love and laughs for 16 years. The reception that I've gotten from friends and family has mostly been kind, but the truth of the matter is that there is a certain discrimination cast upon pet owners that other humans are not made to suffer.
Some have urged me to simply "move on." Others recommended that I purchase a new pet to assuage the pain. I have two problems with the above suggestions; the first being how can anyone "move on" when their best friend of 16 years passes on? Wherever I went, Spanky went. While I battled Lymes Disease and Pneumonia it was Spanky who never left my bedside. And for all the hours that I toiled at the computer, when a rough patch hit, I looked to my right and asked Spanky just how bad he thought the sentence was. He was white, fluffy, gentle and the owner of the biggest pair of brown eyes you've ever seen.
Now onto my second dilemma: Spanky cannot be replaced. He had his own personality. If I did seek out another dog at this time, it would be in an effort to seek out another Spanky and that is not possible. A clone will simply not do. And for me -- this is not to accuse anyone else of any wrongdoing -- to purchase a puppy so quickly would be disrespectful to the memory of Spanky. I loved him with my whole heart and I must mourn him in the same fashion.
I remember when we first brought him home in August of 1990, he just sat in my lap scared to move. He was the tiniest thing. After a day and a half, he realized that in my arms there was unconditional love and he didn't have to be afraid anymore ... and a little bark erupted. I laughed and laughed.
Spanky loved to play catch. He loved to rub his back against the bottom of the couch. He nudged me to scratch his tiny belly. And he had this habit of standing on his hind legs to look over the ledge of our upstairs porch just to be nosey. He also loved to have me hold him in my arms, sitting on that same porch, while I read a book.
Summer's wind was a big treat for him. He would hold his head high and stand there motionless to feel all its impact before going about the rest of his business. He also had this tendency to prance in the snow. And he enjoyed stealing toilet paper off of the roll, creating a huge trail from the bathroom and ending under our dining room table. I would scold him, but my anger never lasted long and in the end I always found a smile on my face.
Spanky never growled. Spanky never bit. He simply loved. He needed me as much as I need him. Unfortunately, age took its toll and Spanky eventually went into renal failure as a result of complications from Cushing's Disease and a significant heart murmur. I had to make a choice. The only sensible and right one, in my opinion, was the one that Spanky would have chosen for me had he been given the power: I freed him from his pain and let him go.
I always promised him even as a pup that "Mommy" would always be there for him, and so, I held my little boy in my arms until the very end.
Spanky is now home with us ... his ashes sit on my desk close to the computer so that he can continue to help me during another one of those "rough writing patches."
I miss him so ..... and will continue to all the days of my life.
I love you, Spanky. Thank you for loving me back.
I'll miss you forever until I see you again at The Rainbow Bridge.
Spanky DeBrizzi: June 12, 1990- July 15, 2006
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