See Spot Run

See Spot Run

I decided to continue on with the thoughts of my hometown.  I recalled how many days in a child’s life they awaken to wonderful surprises.  Life was still fresh and new. Cynicism still lay dormant in the soul.  Many of these times might be Christmas, birthdays…or summer vacation (I should have been a teacher!).

One such morning for me was supposed to be just another ordinary day.  I had been up late studying or watching a war movie on the late, late show…you decide which.  I was in a deeper REM state than most mornings, but I could hear a commotion in the house...we always had commotion in the house.  My door was thrust open.  I hardly moved, since I knew I still had allotted sleep time.  Shortly I awoke to this horse of a dog, face-washing me as I tried to pull myself from my slumber.   At the time, we had a Daschund and a Lhasa Apso/Maltese mix…and you could not confuse this pup with either.  All I saw were flashes of black and white…and a red tongue all over.   I pulled back to see one of the 101 Dalmatians with big floppy ears.  I inquired was she ours…and was asked if I wanted to keep her.  Like there ever was a choice...she was already home.

My younger brother for obvious reason named her Spot.  I liked the name…it was the Munster’s pet’s pseudonym.  However to her identity, I realized it was neither staircase dragon nor Dalmatian, the dots where not polka.  I broke out my Big Book of Dogs.  Spot was taller and the snout more square.  I uncovered her heritage…a Harlequin Great Dane.  As to the others, the Daschund, Fritzy, was my first…in 1972.  Cricket, the Lhasa Apso/Maltese mix was adopted to keep Fritzy company…in 1974.  In 1979 when Spot arrived at our home, an instant bond was created.  We grew even closer when Fritzy went to the Rainbow Bridge 3 years later.

It was an odd lot of fur.  The little guys were males, and the thoroughbred a female.  It was especially humorous when a frisky Fritzy would spot Spot.  All she had to do was stand up to thwart his advances.  Cricket on the other hand had a tude.  When people approached our fence, Spot would easily tower over the gate with her front paws to greet them.  Friends would ask; Can I pet her, is she friendly?  If they had looked closer, they could have seen it in her soulful eyes.  But why the growling they’d inquire…I'd warn them it's not her, but you might want to be careful of the little guy at the bottom.

As gentle a giant as she was, she was also a great guardian. Size alone intimidated, imagine if she were a male.  I recall arriving home one night from college.  It was late, after the house had long been asleep.  I quietly went to my bedroom and the route passed my parent's room, where Spot slept.  Suddenly an angry growl emerged from the darkness.  Spot had accounted for everyone, whom could this be lurking in the shadows.  Realizing I needed voice recognition, I whispered loudly….Spot, it’s me!  I was greeted like it was that first day, our first meeting.  Her person was home.  She was almost apologetic that she had mistaken me at first.  I was pinned down on the floor, I could only image what she would do to a burglar.

When I was home I would run Spot…and see her run.  She would gallop as if she were bred at Belmont.  The strides were long and graceful, unlike Max who runs like a drunken fraternity brother.  As back paws touched front, she was airborne…daylight between her and the ground.  I wish I had the property then as I do now to allow her full flight.  She loved to run…and run she did.

In 1987, when I was away at college, her time for the Bridge came.  I never did get the chance to say goodbye to my girl.

Hopefully one day I will see that familiar gallop heading my way…