Spooky 2003 - 2017

Super Spooky!

In October of 2003, I was walking my dog, a lovely black and tan almost-Gordon setter named "Fearghus," in the scrubby woods across from my little apartment in Boiling Springs when a skinny, unkempt white shepherd-looking thing stepped out of the trees and into my heart. She had a leather strap around her neck as a collar, but no tags. She was friendly, but dreadfully thin - she hadn't just jumped the fence for an adventure that afternoon. Not sure what to do, but being unwilling to leave her to her own devices with a busy road nearby, I rigged up the leash to walk the dogs in tandem and took them both back home.

After a visit to the vet to determine if the white dog was healthy (she was), I learned that she was about 9 months old, that her ancestry was Labrador, shepherd, "and a few romantic evenings a couple of generations back," and that she hadn't been fixed. A generous friend helped with the cost of the spaying and general shots, and I had myself a second dog. (No, I didn't put up signs. She was thin to the point of being bony and I didn't see signs for a missing dog that fit her description. Whoever had owned her hadn't taken good care of her and she wasn't going back to that.) I tried out a number of names that seemed to fit the white-dog-in-October-in-the-woods situation - I remember trying both "Ghost" and "Casper" - but "Spooky" was the one that stuck.

FryDaddy and the Spookster

Fearghus, who always was a runner, eventually was re-homed. (Seriously, that dog needed a hundred thousand acres in Montana.) Then, at least for a few years, it was just the two of us and we had ourselves a number of adventures. For instance, Spooky technically had a police (dog) record for hi-jinks that I'm still pretty sure Fearghus started which involved getting out of the pen at that little apartment and ended up with a wounded pet duck. With Spooky by my side, I bought my first "by myself" house. I presented at my first conference. I wrote my first book. And throughout it all, I stayed sober. In the tradition of sobriety that I follow, there's a focus on surrendering your will and your self to a "Higher Power." Many, but not all, call this Power by the name of "God." I won't go quite so far as to say that Spooky was my Higher Power, but it's worth noting that "god" spelled backward is "dog" and there were at least a few nights when knowing that Spooky had never seen me take a drink was a powerful incentive to last another 24 hours. Hey - what works, works.

Spooky in the Snow!

In her youth, Spooky loved running after balls, although she remained fuzzy on the concept of "fetching" them back to the thrower. Friends entered our lives and a few left. Spooky and I took long rambles, with her often wearing a jaunty backpack to carry her water dish. FryDaddy came onto the scene and quickly figured out that he needed to win over Spooky to have a shot with me, so early on, he brought her treats from a fancy dog bakery in Charleston. Cupboard love eventually gave way to honest affection.  FryDaddy and I married (Spooky kept my name, forever remaining "Spooky Koontz") and we added a kitten to the household. Spooky continued to shy away from anything that looked like a snake when we were out walking, be that a cable, wire, or thin tree branch. FryDaddy went away to Tennessee for graduate school. We continued to present our work at conferences. Spooky popped up in examples in various communication classes I taught. A second book was written, this time by both FryDaddy and me. Spooky never liked dressing up for the holidays, but would put up with it to a point. We added a second cat, this one a street stray with a goofy walk. We had an actual snowstorm, and Spooky got to play in the snow-covered street.  Our first cat passed away. My walks with Spooky grew shorter. A shadow on a routine mammogram led to a year of worry, treatment, and joy. A calico cat adopted us. A third book was written. A garden was planted.

A very patient dog!
(Or "Stranger Things" Spooky!)

This past summer, Spooky began to dramatically slow down. She lost too much weight. She didn't hear very well. We changed her diet to softer food designed for older dogs. She began having trouble getting up after a good night's sleep. Her gums lost their rosy pinkness and became anemic-looking. Then, a few days ago, she stopped eating, even refusing cheese. She barely touched her water dish. She was telling us that it was time. The compassionate vet - the same one Spooky first saw nearly 15 years ago - confirmed the news. There were tests we could order and bloodwork that could be done, but that would really only narrow down which organs were failing. I had to lift her into the car to drive her home.

So together, FryDaddy and I decided what was best for Spooky's comfort and we spent most of yesterday telling Spooky stories and just enjoying our gentle girl. I took her to town for a slow walk on the courthouse grass and I wore a backpack to carry her water dish, hoping I could convince her to drink at least a little bit. She spent most of the evening just lying on her side on the soft carpet of the hallway. People were unfailingly kind and a young girl and her wise mother who have known Spooky for the girl's entire life (they had been our next-door neighbors and now only live two streets away) come over to say good-bye to her. The girl petted Spooky and then read Dog Heaven to her. She helpfully pointed out the illustrations of fluffy cloud beds and an endless supply of ham-sandwich-biscuits to Spooky while I tried to hold it together.

I want to think we gave her a good life. I need to think that, because I can't repay this dog for what she's given me. And even though I know that allowing her to rest is the right thing to do - it's one of the most difficult moral decisions I've made in my life.

Thank you, Spooky. Now go run with the rabbits. And yes, you can chase the ducks as much as you want to.

You're a good girl.

Always.

The songsters were right - Love was kinda crazy
with a Spooky little girl like you.