On August 1, 1985, my mom took me to the Vallejo Animal Shelter to pick out my first dog for my 10th birthday. In a dark and damp cage sat Spanky. She was in the front-left corner, the only place in the cage where a small beam of sun shined down. She was a tiny version of Snoopy, with over-sized black velvet ears that seemed to blanket her body. She had a long, crooked tail that sat motionless. Spanky seemed very sad.
There was another dog in the cage, and it would walk up to Spanky and bite her ear. Little Spanky cried and trembled. She looked at me with her big sad eyes, and stuck her tiny little nose through the chain linked fence, as if to say she wanted me to save her. A small pink patch of skin showed through the thin hair on her muzzle. Though my mom warned me about petting the dogs, I could not resist but to touch her. It was at that moment that I fell in love.
We were told that little Spanky was wanted by many people, but she had a cold and had to stay in the shelter for quarantine. For two weeks I worried about that sweet little puppy. I worried that the other dog would hurt her. I worried that someone else would take her home. For two weeks I worried, but on August 13th, I got to take her home. Spanky never seemed sad ever again.
Spanky was my very best friend. I gave her the food that I did not like and a lot of the food that I did enjoy. Spanky would eat anything (but Brussels sprouts). She loved to play and to cuddle, and though she never did learn how to walk on a leash, Spanky was bright and clever. Spanky comforted me when I was sad. She would sit on my lap until I felt better. Spanky was always at my feet and often in my bed with me at night. Years later when I started to date my husband, Spanky gave him as much love as she gave to me. And when I married and moved away, Spanky waited for me to come and visit. Eventually, Spanky came to live with my husband and me.
Spanky had a stroke on August 13, 1999, exactly 14 years after I took my best friend home. She closed her eyes for the last time the next day.
Spanky received the country burial through the Bubbling Well Pet Memorial Park.
There was another dog in the cage, and it would walk up to Spanky and bite her ear. Little Spanky cried and trembled. She looked at me with her big sad eyes, and stuck her tiny little nose through the chain linked fence, as if to say she wanted me to save her. A small pink patch of skin showed through the thin hair on her muzzle. Though my mom warned me about petting the dogs, I could not resist but to touch her. It was at that moment that I fell in love.
We were told that little Spanky was wanted by many people, but she had a cold and had to stay in the shelter for quarantine. For two weeks I worried about that sweet little puppy. I worried that the other dog would hurt her. I worried that someone else would take her home. For two weeks I worried, but on August 13th, I got to take her home. Spanky never seemed sad ever again.
Spanky was my very best friend. I gave her the food that I did not like and a lot of the food that I did enjoy. Spanky would eat anything (but Brussels sprouts). She loved to play and to cuddle, and though she never did learn how to walk on a leash, Spanky was bright and clever. Spanky comforted me when I was sad. She would sit on my lap until I felt better. Spanky was always at my feet and often in my bed with me at night. Years later when I started to date my husband, Spanky gave him as much love as she gave to me. And when I married and moved away, Spanky waited for me to come and visit. Eventually, Spanky came to live with my husband and me.
Spanky had a stroke on August 13, 1999, exactly 14 years after I took my best friend home. She closed her eyes for the last time the next day.
Spanky received the country burial through the Bubbling Well Pet Memorial Park.
On August 1, 1985, my mom took me to the Vallejo Animal Shelter to pick out my first dog for my 10th birthday. In a dark and damp cage sat Spanky. She was in the front-left corner, the only place in the cage where a small beam of sun shined down. She was a tiny version of Snoopy, with over-sized black velvet ears that seemed to blanket her body. She had a long, crooked tail that sat motionless. Spanky seemed very sad.
There was another dog in the cage, and it would walk up to Spanky and bite her ear. Little Spanky cried and trembled. She looked at me with her big sad eyes, and stuck her tiny little nose through the chain linked fence, as if to say she wanted me to save her. A small pink patch of skin showed through the thin hair on her muzzle. Though my mom warned me about petting the dogs, I could not resist but to touch her. It was at that moment that I fell in love.
We were told that little Spanky was wanted by many people, but she had a cold and had to stay in the shelter for quarantine. For two weeks I worried about that sweet little puppy. I worried that the other dog would hurt her. I worried that someone else would take her home. For two weeks I worried, but on August 13th, I got to take her home. Spanky never seemed sad ever again.
Spanky was my very best friend. I gave her the food that I did not like and a lot of the food that I did enjoy. Spanky would eat anything (but Brussels sprouts). She loved to play and to cuddle, and though she never did learn how to walk on a leash, Spanky was bright and clever. Spanky comforted me when I was sad. She would sit on my lap until I felt better. Spanky was always at my feet and often in my bed with me at night. Years later when I started to date my husband, Spanky gave him as much love as she gave to me. And when I married and moved away, Spanky waited for me to come and visit. Eventually, Spanky came to live with my husband and me.
Spanky had a stroke on August 13, 1999, exactly 14 years after I took my best friend home. She closed her eyes for the last time the next day.
Spanky received the country burial through the Bubbling Well Pet Memorial Park.
There was another dog in the cage, and it would walk up to Spanky and bite her ear. Little Spanky cried and trembled. She looked at me with her big sad eyes, and stuck her tiny little nose through the chain linked fence, as if to say she wanted me to save her. A small pink patch of skin showed through the thin hair on her muzzle. Though my mom warned me about petting the dogs, I could not resist but to touch her. It was at that moment that I fell in love.
We were told that little Spanky was wanted by many people, but she had a cold and had to stay in the shelter for quarantine. For two weeks I worried about that sweet little puppy. I worried that the other dog would hurt her. I worried that someone else would take her home. For two weeks I worried, but on August 13th, I got to take her home. Spanky never seemed sad ever again.
Spanky was my very best friend. I gave her the food that I did not like and a lot of the food that I did enjoy. Spanky would eat anything (but Brussels sprouts). She loved to play and to cuddle, and though she never did learn how to walk on a leash, Spanky was bright and clever. Spanky comforted me when I was sad. She would sit on my lap until I felt better. Spanky was always at my feet and often in my bed with me at night. Years later when I started to date my husband, Spanky gave him as much love as she gave to me. And when I married and moved away, Spanky waited for me to come and visit. Eventually, Spanky came to live with my husband and me.
Spanky had a stroke on August 13, 1999, exactly 14 years after I took my best friend home. She closed her eyes for the last time the next day.
Spanky received the country burial through the Bubbling Well Pet Memorial Park.
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