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Spock the Dog.
My parents got him about a month before I was born...so I never knew a day when I didn't know this dog until I was almost 16 years old. He was a German Shepherd/Collie mix, and was the most loyal animal I've ever known. He used to walk me to and from the bus every afternoon. It was like he knew that was his job...in fact, I really think he held onto life for as long as he did because he felt like he had a job to do. If that makes any sense. In the final days of his life, he was blind and partially deaf, and he relied on his sense of smell for almost everything. I remember going to feed him one evening...he lived in the garage at that point, and couldn't really leave. I put his food on the ground as I did every night, and he smelt his way around to find it...at the same time, our greedy cat, who I had just fed, raced over to eat Spock's food. I remember LAUNCHING that cat across the garage. I was so upset about that. My protector, my guardian, my childhood friend was in the twighlight of his life, and couldn't even see his food, and that fat, lazy cat tried to get his meal. After I threw the cat across the garage, I think he got the point. Spock died in February of 2000, a full 16 years after he was born. Rest in peace, old friend.
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"With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy."
-Desiderata
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