The Kids--Where it all started.

Way back in 1994, after my Dad passed away and while I was working for Fairey Chevrolet, I got the bright idea to "buy" a Cocker Spaniel Puppy. She was 2 lbs of blonde sassiness, and she was called "Hoopie". Don't ask me where that came from, but somehow she got baby talked to death, and that became her name. She was bought from a backyard breeder in Norway, SC. The business was Kennels and Cars of Norway. The breeder delivered her to me and her brother to a co-worker on a Friday at lunch time. She stayed in a box with me at work with her towel and a tennis ball. Didn't make a peep.

I took her home to my Mom, who was displeased at yet another animal brought home to the farm, but fell in love with her just like I did. To say I was ignorant in caring for a dog was an understatement. Living out in the country, we were not strangers to having animals dumped on our farm. Countless puppies, cats and kittens, and a few stray dogs showed up periodically. Dad was unhappy, Mom was saddened and guilt ridden when we took any to the pound, but we just couldn't keep them all. Don't think I didn't try. The animals that we purposefully adopted all seemed to get killed.....living on a major highway doesn't help the cause. Foxes got our ducks and chicks, hunters shot some of our dogs, and the highway lay claim to a few of them too. One or two just disappeared. We were never without an animal, whether it canine, feline, bovine, equine or swine. We had everything at one time or the other. At the time I brought the Cocker home, we had only cats.

We kept her in the house for a while, but once she was old enough, she was relegated to a chain link pen, built by Mom and the brother. It was a big pen, not a typical run, and she had a large house, fresh water and lots of toys. I think, all in all, she lived a great life. She had a personality that was second to none.....always up for a tussle with us, plenty of love for a long nap with her humans, and always just content to be with her humans. When I moved to Knoxville, and bought my house there, I took her with me. I was working nights, she had to stay crated a lot, and seemed unhappy. At the time I took her to live with me, she'd been living with Mom for several years. We finally realized after a time, that she was Mom's dog, and she missed Mom and her "home." She came back to SC with Mom.

I got a call one Sunday morning, in the Spring of Hoop's 12 th year. She'd developed a horrible cough, one that worried Mom enough to drive the hour to Columbia to the emergency vet clinic. She'd been previously diagnosed with tracheitis, an inflammation of her trachea, causing it to spasm and her to cough. Unbeknown to us that it was a misdiagnosis. I'd noticed that she had a heart murmur once when I was fooling around with my stethoscope and a big ole case of boredom, but thought nothing of it. When the vet at the pet ER checked her, he found her to be in Congestive Heart Failure, and a pretty advanced stage at that. Started her on some meds, diuretics, and sent her home. She just continued a downhill slide after that. Her regular vet saw her, and did what she could, but the fact was, Hoop was not getting better, and she was not comfortable.

Memorial Day weekend, 2006, and I had a friend visiting in Knox-land. We'd gone to the Aquarium of the Smokies and to sight see in Gatlinburg. While in the exhibit, I had no cell service, and once we got outside, I had 2 voice mails and several missed calls from Mom. She'd taken our girl to the vet, unable to catch her little breath and unable to stop coughing. Mom was calling, needing to make the decision, and not wanting to make it on her own. Our girl needed to cross the Rainbow Bridge. She couldn't get me, but our vet, Ann Hurst talked to Mom at length, and told her that Hoop was hurting and uncomfortable, but willing to suffer to stay with her humans. Ann told Mom that we could do what we needed to do, but the Hoopster wasn't going to get better. She and Mom helped the old girl across the bridge, peacefully.

It was so weird to come home, and not see that blonde mug smiling from the patio door when I pulled up. It was hard as hell to know she wasn't just at the groomers getting her hair did. It was painful, and still is. So you might ask....how do I have it in me to have 3 gorgeous Cockers now? Because she was where it started. The devotion to the breed, with all their quirks and their personalities. At the end of the day, when I get home, I have 3 mugs looking out at me from their crates. At night, I have 65 lbs of black and white and spots in my lap, giving Cocker kisses and scrambling for the closest place to me. I see the eyes, all chocolatey and dark looking at me, as if they know what I'm saying. And above it all, I have the unconditional love from 3 little furry beings who don't know any other life. Working with the rescue in Knoxville was eye opening, heart breaking, and so worth it. I gained 2 of mine from that experience, and I gained friends that I wouldn't trade for the world.

I've been there when fosters crossed the Rainbow Bridge, and the experience sliced my heart as though they were my own. It makes you want to hurt the people that hurt the animal to the point they can't be pets anymore. It makes you go home and grab your fuzzies and love 'em until they can't take anymore. And it makes you realize that you've been given or have accepted responsibility for a fuzzy heart, and you need to take it seriously. Would I trade my 3 in for anything? Nope. Would I trade the experience of the Hoopieness? Never. She started my love for the Cockers, and she'll be the reason that mine live better than I do.