In December of 2017, a small brown-and-white dog resisted entry into a pet adoption meet-and-greet at a large pet supplies store in the Dallas area. Abandoned by her original owners, she’d found comfort with her foster mom. She wanted no part of gambling with yet another set of humans.
She dropped anchor in the doorway. Not going to budge. Get me out of here.
This was our introduction to Sparkle—soon to be named Sparky.
For my wife Vickie and Sparky’s soon-to-be adoptive brother Maddox, aka Matty, it was love at first sight. For me, a bit of apprehension. Sparky seemed a bit “off.” In hindsight, what dog wouldn’t be? My concerns vanished a minute after she stepped into our back yard.
She’d been abandoned because her first family “didn’t have time for her.” Her forever family would someday lament they didn’t have enough time with her.
Matty knew all about abandonment—and worse. He’d been found a couple years earlier with a belly fully of shotgun BBs. The most loving dog on earth had been shot and left to die. We will never understand. Matty never met a dog, or a person, he didn’t love.
He now had a new best friend. A dream come true for him–clearly evidenced by the video below.
Day 1 - Sparky Joins the Family
Deemed expendable misfits by others. Given a new chance at life, they thrived together. Their compatibility seemed too good to be true, but it was special. They never fought. They’d peacefully eat from the same bowl. They’d traverse the roads of Texas—heads often out the same window of the car.
Peas and carrots. Peanut butter and jelly. Matty and Sparky. Matty, the English Shepherd–the pack leader. Sparky, the Border Collie—the herding dog. One led from the front. One from the rear.
Sparky learned the household routine from Matty. Two or three daily drives around town. OK—sometimes four. One daily “bye-bye” had to commence within 30 minutes of the final lick of the supper bowl.
Delays from humans led to stare-downs.
“Um, Momma, Daddy, what the heck are you waiting for?”
It was a chess match. Neither blinked. Wait them out. Wear them down.
Sparky to the left. Matty on the right. They’d stare at my laptop. They’d stare at me. Laptop. Me. Laptop. Me. Laptop. Me. Back and forth like a tennis match.
“What can possibly be on that thing that’s more interesting than us?”
When I’d close the lid of the laptop, Sparky would spin around—she knew either a treat or a bye-bye was likely forthcoming.
Their favored routes were to the Keller Athletic Complex, to Bear Creek Park or their nightly visit to grandmas where they’d receive a biscuit or two. Even better were the sleepovers with grandma, who loved their company as much as the pups love her.
In the early days, Sparky observed Matty’s head-out-the-window behavior. Airborne, he was. Meanwhile, she was confined to the seat. She must have thought—”if a boy can do it, us girls surely can too.” Eventually, she found the courage to stand on the back seat arm rest, maintain her balance and enjoy the wind in her face and the scenery of north Texas. She earned her wings and piled-up the frequent-flier miles. Neighbors grew accustomed to seeing the flying pups embarking on, or returning from, their sightseeing tours. Stopped at a red light? No problem. Those sharing the road with us were always smiling—often rolling down their windows to talk to the pups.
If only we had a nickel for every time someone smiled, laughed, waved or visited with Sparky and Matty during their explorations.
Sparky had found a home. Next, she would find her purpose.
A short drive to the new home of our former neighbors, the Robinsons. Sparky and Matty were racing around the expansive back yard with their old friend, Cinnamon—the Robinson’s dog. Our dogs were quizzically observing and energized by the noisy creatures inside the chicken coop.
Then, the moment.
Nose-to-nose with goats.
Three goats. Bubbles. Walter. Chuey.
Thousands of years of genetic wiring instantly sparked the synapses of Sparky’s brain.
“These are my people! This is so much fun! I must keep this gang together.”
This was the one and only day we ever saw Sparky kneel on her front legs in a classic “let’s play” pose.
Genetically programmed to herd, to organize, to do a job. Her dream would have been to herd a flock of sheep or goats on the green hills of Ireland. With no such animals around, a compromise. Her target became that big guy who drives her around in the car every day—he clearly needed some guidance. His wife Vickie—and her best friend Matty? Yes, they could use some work too.
Just as she learned to fly, she now tapped into her instincts to herd. After our frequent drives, she would now only enter the house after all others were accounted for. When Vickie or I stayed up late, Sparky stayed up late. Her workday wasn’t done until all of us were in bed. Only then would she rest.
The family’s timekeeper, she’d mandate compliance with the rhythm of the day. Insistent on breakfast no later than 8 am. Vigilant for 5 pm supper. Mandatory car ride around the neighborhood by 6 pm. Relentless to receive her 8:45 pm snack. If we were late, she’d step on, or into, her bowl. Happy-go-lucky Matty was content—probably amused—to observe her management style.
She found her purpose in life.
We were it.
Oh sure, her genetic and maternal instincts presented some downsides. Perhaps we’d have been OK without her howling at 3 am after hearing a squirrel fart from three blocks away.
“SQUIRREL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
It was her way of pulling the fire alarm–protecting the family. In her defense, police and animal control records confirm no reports of intruders ever filed from our address under Sparky’s watch.
She proudly and effectively did her job.
Sparky learned the language of the household: supper, breakfast, water, bye-bye (car ride), Momma, Daddy, potty, walk, toy, ball, car wash (belly rub), sleepy (go to bed)—and her favorite word, “treat.” Meanwhile, in February of 2019, Vickie and I were also learning new terminology: “auto-immune disease,” “blood platelets,” “white blood cell counts” and “infection susceptibility.”
Sparky’s Mom—Vickie, offered heroic care—everything possible. Yet, doctors could never identify and rectify the root cause.
Sadly, Sparky’s time with us ended at 6 pm on Thursday, October 14, 2021, just shy of four years with our family.
In her absence we strongly feel her presence. While Matty has always been the pack leader on our walks, Sparky had become the head of the household. Everything now seems so quiet.
Matty, hasn’t been the same. He still looks for her. His head snaps in our direction if we mention Sparky’s name. And, above all, don’t play a video where Sparky can be heard barking.
If only we could make sense of this for him.
Sparky was born to be a Mom. To be our best friend. To love all of us.
Abandoned. She’d found a family. With it, her life’s mission—keeping us together. She would leave no family member behind. And she would never again be alone.
Today, we are somewhat lost without her. She always had our back.
Today, we’d give anything…to have her back.
OUR APPRECIATION – Thank you to the Border Collie Rescue and Rehab organization
Our heartfelt thanks to Border Collie Rescue Rehab of Texas for the work they do to save pups like Sparky and Matty. Special thanks to Deanne Famolare Harris for serving as Sparky’s foster mom before we adopted her and Michelle and Anthony Hash for heroically fostering Maddox.
And special appreciation for folks like my wife, Vickie, who choose to give good homes to rescued pups who just need a second chance at life.
A beautiful, heartfelt story that brought tears to my eyes. It radiates the love that adopted dogs 🐕
receive and return to you and Vickie.
Anyone who loves dogs can identify.
Thanks for sharing.
I was drawn into the story of Sparky. Remembering all the happy times we had when Sparky and Matty
spend nights with me. I would never say no to the opportunity to enjoy the company of my Granddogs
Our sweet girl. When we adopted her I told Tom that I wanted to adopt an older dog, one who was less likely to be adopted. I thought I knew what I was getting into, and I didn’t know it would all be over too soon. I knew she might get sick and two years in she did. I religiously took her to doctor and specialist appointments, meticulously managed her medications and lovingly prepared her food. I happily did this and hoped for the best. After she passed and cards, well wishes and flowers came to the house it was quite clear that everyone knew how much she was loved. Oddly, it was the words from her doctors and vet techs that brought me the most comfort. “Sparky didn’t have the best start in life, but she was lucky to be found by you.” Honestly we were the lucky ones. “You all did everything you could for her and it showed how much you loved her.” No truer words. “It is so hard to say goodbye, you and Sparky have gone through so much. I hope the lifetime of memories help to ease the grief.” There was such an outpouring of love. For the girl who was abandoned, she found her forever home and touched the hearts of so many. There will never be another love like her. My heart will never be the same..
thats a trajedy….you both gave Sparky the best life any pet could ever ask for…lets hope you and vickie and matty can alleviate the heartache and pain… I have scoobys ashes on my shelf next to me he was my best bud for 20yrs…when I pray which I do everyday.to you and larry and your familes .mostly when im out hiking…I reiterate in my prayers please bless and say hello to scooby and noche who were very important parts of our familes for many years..and tell them we love and miss them very much…they were 2 of the best pets anyones ever had..ya i know it takes me 20 minutes to say my prayers..GOD doesnt seem to mind…now i will add Sparkys name…hopefully good Lord willing ..I hope this rainbrow bridge is there when we pass and we will see our beloved pets again….take care…
No human on the face of the planet has a love so pure and unrelenting as that of a dog. Their willingness to forgive despite unimaginable adversity is astonishing. The abandonment Sparky experienced earlier in her life would not be her legacy because the rescue group and her proud pet parents would not allow for that. You gave her more than a chance. You gave her a reason for being. You gifted her a home, hope, family, and a fulfilled life.
Chills. I have chills. Finding a new story by Tom is like finding a wad of cash in pants pockets while doing laundry. Throw in a couple of man’s (and, apparently, women’s) best friends and you’ve discovered the recipe for magic. A beautiful story well told. My condolences.