Walking Spencer – in the beginning...

When Spencer first caught my eye, he was jumping up and down on a wooden chair, scratching frenetically at the pane of his owners’ kitchen window. He was in full bark mode..quite the sight! Obviously this dog was trying to say hello. Every time I walked by his house, there he was – although I didn’t know his name at that time – a brown-eyed, white-coated, mid-sized dog going crazy at the window. Enquiring about him, here’s what I heard:

“Don’t let him get near you; he’ll shred your legs to ribbons!”
“Oh, is he mean?”
“Oh no. Just a little wild. His people can no longer walk him so he watches the world go by from his window, poor thing. His name is Spencer.”

Spencer, hmmm. Now, I’m not a big fan of dogs despite having lived with many while growing up. I prefer the calm of a cat over the boisterousness of a dog. Yet for some reason, I felt bad each time I walked past Spencer, watching him so frantically signal his hello. It occurred to me, since I’d vowed to take a daily walk, that walking a dog - him! - might actually help keep me on track. (In hindsight, I think Spencer already knew this!)

At a social event, I had the chance to meet his owners and to learn more about their dog. According to the Missus, Spencer is a four year old Bichon Frisé-poodle mix (which explained his lovely white curls and his size). Initially, she said, getting a dog had been her idea; the Mister hadn’t wanted him but now he was the apple of his eye: “Quite the boy, our Spencer!” Recovering from a recent surgery, the Mister wasn’t too steady on his pins so he’d take Spencer out regularly to trot alongside his motorized scooter. I asked if they’d allow me to walk him too.

“Of course!” enthused the Missus, “You come by any time!”

Well, any time took another year for I hadn't yet retired, and my weekend walks were sporadic at best. My big walking plan was to start when I retired which, finally, I did. I'm sorry now I didn't start walking him sooner. So begins my relationship with Spencer.