This is Sparky:
He was my very first dog. My family bought him from a pet shop in a mall in Baltimore in the early 80s. (Sigh. What we didn’t know back then.)
My parents somehow deciphered that when my younger sister, who was probably around 4 at the time, said she didn’t want a dog that “got old,” what she really meant was she didn’t want a dog that got big.
So we bought a bichon.
Sparky was a good dog, though neurotic and quirky. (Nearly 30 years later, I realize that he was probably a puppy mill dog, which explains a LOT.) He was allergic to grass. He was so picky about his food – he wouldn’t touch any people food other than jelly beans and refused to even taste anything other than one specific type of kibble. He chased airplanes. We didn’t have a fence, but Sparky never left our yard or our sides. He didn’t want to; he hated going on walks. My dad insisted on taking him periodically, though. Once, on a hike with my dad and my brother, he ran off. Six days later, our babysitter spotted him napping under a tree two towns over and brought him home, and he never even tried to explore past our yard after that.
Every single day, when my dad came home from work, Sparky ran two laps around the house then met him in the garage. When my dad sat in his chair reading the morning paper, Sparky would jump up and into the paper, startling my dad but getting his attention.
Sparky moved with us from Baltimore to Williamsport, PA, and from Williamsport to Indianapolis. That’s a lot of change for a little guy, but he handled it beautifully. Through those years, Sparky was my best friend. He let me use him as a pillow, and during the rough junior high years, he listened to and kept all of my secrets.
I learned a lot from him, and he was such a sweet boy – despite all of his neuroses. Sparky inspired my love of dogs from day one.
Tell us about your first dog! What was he or she like? What kind of dog? What was his or her name?
Smithers The Wonder Dog. He wandered around my mom’s office for a couple of days, apparently the result of a long-haul trucker just leaving him there. My mom was the only person he would come up to, so she got him cleaned up and brought home. He was a great help during those horrible, horrible teenage years, and was an absolutely wonderful dog. We treated him like royalty, but we didn’t really treat him like a dog, i.e., not much in the way of walks, too much human food, and for some reason, we never got him a bed to sleep on, just the trusty old floor. He was house broken, knew some tricks, and loved everyone. He was old, so probably my 2nd year in college, he couldn’t get up one day. I loaded him into my mom’s car, but absolutely refused to go to the vet with her, because we both had a feeling he wouldn’t be coming back. Not sure where John was at the time, but our mom called from the vet, crying, and said that the doctor said he was old, and they myriad of problems could be soothed, but they weren’t going away. Through a veil of tears, and trying to control the gigantic lump that had developed in my throat, I told her, “OK”. We both knew what that meant, so I hung up the phone. It was one of the worst days of my life, but it certainly helped with training Lucy The Wonder Dog. Smithers made me a dog lover, and because of him, regardless of how insane those canines make us, we’ll always have a dog in our house.
Love, love, love learning about people’s first dog! That first experience really does shape us, I think. My first dog was originally supposed to be my brother’s. He got a dog and I got a cat. But I ended up bonding more with the dog, that my brother, in his teenage brilliance, named ‘Rebel’. Rebel was a mutt (adopted from the local humane society). She (yes, she, again, my brother’s name choice!) was terrified of loud noises and cowered at the sight of a stick or broom in hand (we sadly started thinking she might have been previously abused). She was my constant companion and I even had my senior pictures taken with her. She definitely created the dog lover I am today. 🙂