They've Got Nothing On Spiffy:

Spiffy about to bark:

w/ Ike (a/k/a Spike; a/k/a/ Spiko; a/k/a/ Iko). About 20 years ago:

"Tina went on to live the brief, tortured life of a one-eyed German-Shepherd."

"Have you ever seen a 2.5 month old dog look at a person this way?"

Spiffy (right); Jake (left); Rules (center). "...Spiffy can walk a good 10 yards on her hind legs like a person..."

I’m not a native New Yorker; I moved here ten years ago when I was already over 30. Before that I lived in a lot of places: Detroit; Denver; south Jersey; Denver (again!); and now Brooklyn for the past decade.

New York’s home for me now, but I’ve spent a lot of important years outside the city and could easily leave for the right opportunity. I tried living in Denver twice, but it never worked-out. The climate’s too dry and I could never find a steady job. In fact, Denver has a rather odd economy. I made more money out there as a hotel bellman than I ever did as an investigator. Go figure.

I kind of got sour on Denver the 2nd time I lived there, but now that I live in New York I appreciate Colorado a lot more. All my people live there now; and they have huge public parks; majestic scenery; medical marijuana; mountain biking and skiing.

And everyone has a dog.

I had three dogs when I lived in Denver--Ike, Tina, and Spiffy. We don’t talk much about Ike and Tina since Ike chomped Tina’s eye out of her head (one of several transgressions) and eventually had to be put to sleep.

Tina went on to live the brief, tortured life you might expect from a one-eyed, in-bred German Shepherd.

But then there was Spiffy--the only one of the three that I actually chose as a puppy. And of course she’s the greatest dog of all time.

I got Spiffy from a puppy rescue. They’d found her all the way down in Conejos, Colorado and trucked her up to Denver for adoption. When I found her that August morning she was enclosed in a large, chain-link pen with about 30 other puppies. A large, handwritten sign was posted that read BLACK DOGS. Other pens were marked HEINZ 57’s; SHEPHERDS AND HUSKIES; and SMALL DOGS.

I locked-on to Spiffy right away as she napped near the front of the pen with her silky head between her two paws. She was without doubt the cutest pup I’ve ever seen; and after about 20 minutes of bonding I took her home.

Spiffy was my dog.

When I adopted Spiffy I had to pay $125.00 for her. “That’s a lot of money for a pound pup,” my dad told me; but it included a coupon to get her fixed.

When I took Spiffy to the veterinarian, he did a whole check-up. Looked in her eyes. Shined a light into her floppy ears. Checked her teeth.

“What d’ya think doc?” I asked him liked a worried parent. “She look okay?”

“This pup?” he asked with a wide smile as he stared at Spiffy like an artist inspects his creation “You don’t have to worry about this one,” he said as his heavy hand smacked the top of her head rather clumsily for a doctor. "This is gonna be a good one.”

And with that Spiffy wiggled-off the table, down to the floor.

Spiffy’s always running away from people. She’s a lot like me in that respect. Aloof, even with the one’s she loves. My guess is that she’s about 50% Border Collie; 40% Lab; 5% Chow; and...something else in there as well. It’s the Chow that makes her stand-offish, but she’s got a definite dominate streak. She won’t roll on her side unless you force her; and God forbid another dog should try to steal her frisbee or ball! Regardless of the dog’s size, that’s gonna lead to a throw-down in the octagon. Spiffy’s foolish that way.

But Spiffy’s the smartest dog I’ve ever met. She knows at least a hundred words: hungry; ball; bone; leash; collar; car; park; stick; speak; sit; lie-down; roll-over; outside; inside; upstairs; downstairs; frisbee; kiss; fetch; wait. I could go on and on. She was house-trained after one accident and can walk a good 10 yards on her hind legs like a person (which I’d encourage if it didn’t completely spook me out). Just look at her picture as a puppy (above). The way she stares at me with intelligent expectancy. Have you ever seen a 2.5 month old dog look at a person that way? Please.

When I adopted Spiffy I was unemployed, so we spent every purposeless day of those first 8-9 months together. We’d start the day at the coffeeshop; then get high and play fetch at the park before driving up to the mountains. She was my best girlfriend, until I got my job offer here in New York.

My original plan was to come back for Spiffy once I got settled. I always assumed we’d be together again. But now I live in a rent-stabilized apartment, which is way cheap. And they don’t allow dogs. So I left Spiffy with my friend Rules and her huge backyard; and it turned out to be a win-win for everybody. For ten years.

I still see Spiffy two weeks a year. In fact, I just got back from my most recent visit, so she’s really been on my mind. (heavy sigh). How many really good dogs do you get in a lifetime? Special dogs. Two? Maybe three? Three sounds like a lot to me. In my endless pursuit of music, new experience, bright lights, and international pussy, I really screwed-up where Spiffy’s concerned. I see that now. If I trusted my boss a little more I’d take a chance and lease a new apartment. With a yard.

But that’s a pretty big if right now.

Besides, Spiffy’s old now. She’s happy in Denver and lived there her whole life. I can’t just take her for my own purposes. I’ll have to get a new dog when the time comes. And that one won’t be the same.

How could it be?

"In my endless pursuit of music, new experience, and international pussy..."



* NOTE: All pics taken by Lodo Grdzak. All rights reserved.