It’s hard to talk about Spencer without first being reminded of his untimely loss. I will get this out of the way quickly so I can get on with his story. Spencer was the only dog we ever lost on the road – it was devastating. I don’t think any of us are really over it even now, years later. None of us can drive by a loose dog on the street without stopping to make sure it’s safe. We stop because of Spencer – we stop for him – this is part of his legacy. But this is not his story- it’s just how it ends. He actually has a pretty great story – one that was cut too short.
Everyone loves a clown; perhaps not all their antics, and maybe not all the time; clowns are generally the most entertaining part of the circus. Clowns are larger than life, they take up a lot of room. Spencer was a clown.
Spence was the dog of my husband’s life. They were best buddies. If dog years were measured in miles Spencer would have been 106 by the time he was four. He and his dad went everywhere together. Spencer knew the back roads of British Columbia better than the guy who drew them on the map – he saw them from the backseat of my husband’s pickup truck in every kind of weather. His life was one big road trip.
I have to say there is nothing more photogenic than a yellow lab pup – there’s a reason they put those faces on bags of puppy chow, they are completely perfect. Spencer was adorable from the word go. He was made of velvet and mischief. If Cowboy hadn’t been around to teach Spencer the ropes I don’t know what we would have done – Spencer was born thinking rules were a joke and every day was a frat party.
Spence was the furthest thing from an Alpha dog ever – he got along with everyone and every dog. Cowboy had little patience for his antics, he even developed a special bark when he spoke to Spence. I can only imagine what he was saying when he reached the end of his rope. Spence was never offended – he treated that bark as an invitation to push his luck even further. There was a lot of foul dog talk back in those days.
Spencer spent the majority of his life out of town – he had been added to the family to do just that. My husband was away a lot back in those days; where I may have been overwhelmed with things at home, he was hellish lonely out in the sticks. Spencer filled a void in his life that I couldn’t even imagine. Their bond was strong and unspoken. They spent a lot of time working in remote areas of the province – they roomed in rustic cabins and weather worn motels. They spent a couple of years living on a boat moored in Bella Coola, making the trek home a couple of times a month by truck on iffy roads. Spence didn’t care where he slept as long as his dad was close by.
Spencer wasn’t a naturally brave dog but he knew the drill – his bark sounded ferocious, his demeanor was anything but. When he was at home he took his cues from Cowboy – if the boss thought something was worth barking about Spencer would add his two cents. If the boss was upset Spencer was too, although often times I’m not sure Spence knew what he was upset about. He was more of a back-up barker than a lead – but he was more than willing to play in the band.
Spencer packed a lot of mischief into his too short life. I came home from work one day to find he had shredded his new foam bed, as well as Cowboy’s. There were foam chips from here to tomorrow. He wasn’t nearly sorry enough – he acted like it was my fault for leaving him loose in the house – like that was license to run amok. He forgot about the new beds as soon as I cleaned up the mess and was on to his next adventure.
Spencer didn’t have opportunity to settle into dogdom – he was a puppy right to the end. He lived every day of his four years like the party was just getting on a roll. He was loved as much as he’s been missed – he left a Spencer sized hole in more hearts than one.
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Awe, Spennie. ……♡