Sparky Malarkey

Malarkey-something that does not have or make sense.

The story I am about to tell is senseless. But, know that in the end...it is NOT sad.

 A college girl who had tried to have a puppy in her dorm, couldn't handle it after a few months and was looking for a home for an odd looking Dalmatian. The puppy wasn't trained and was very high strung as Dals are known to be. We decided to adopt this pup and soon had a nine month-old Sparky in our home.

I don't know if you know this, but Dalmatians spots do not develop until they are a bit older. So here we were with a strong, feisty, creme colored puppy. He was a happy-go-lucky type of personality and we were really enjoying him. Very soon after we adopted him I became pregnant with my fourth child, Becky.

The winter I was pregnant with Becky was 1994, the winter of many blizzards. Not easy when you have a 70lb puppy that needed to go out- a lot.  The kids couldn't really handle him on walks because if he saw a squirrel, chipmunk, or another dog he would take off pulling them in the process. 

So it fell to me. Of course I was huge. But, he listened to me. So I began to train him to stay in the yard. I could just let him out the door and he would come right in when he was done with his business. Even he didn't want to be out in the frigid cold, ice and snow.

We lived on a quiet street back by some woods. The only traffic we had was from the town road crew first thing in the morning and at 5pm at the end of their day. The kids could play in the street, ride bikes, or cross to visit neighbors without me worrying.

Becky's due date came and went. Finally my doctor decided to set a date to induce me and I was so relieved, she was already ten days late. Of course there was another blizzard on its way. So my husband came home early from work. The roads were already treacherous and we planned to leave early for the hospital. My mom was there to help with the kids. Everything was set. We decided to have  dinner together before we left.

As my mother and I made dinner, Marc went outside to shovel the walk and driveway.  The kids and Sparky went outside to play. I could see them from the kitchen window. They were having so much fun. The boys were having a snowball fight and Sparky was chasing the snowballs trying to catch them and when he would? He would be so surprised as they would disintegrate.

It was so funny and cute. As I looked out the window I thought to myself, this is like a Norman Rockwell winter scene.

It began to get dark and dinner was almost ready. As I looked out the window I could see that my husband was helping our elderly neighbor by snowplowing her driveway. I was glad but remember thinking that we really didn't have time for "extra" snow removal as we had to still eat and leave. Just as I was about to go to the door to call everyone in I saw a truck with a snowplow coming up our street, fast.  At the same time I saw Sparky, who was still creme colored,  playfully leap into the street.

He was hit right away. And I saw it all.

I began to scream. My Mom realized what had happened and was trying to calm me.  I ran outside to get my husband. My oldest son was screaming and crying on his knees in a snow drift. My other son had joined the men who had hit Sparky. 

I will never forget it. Sparky was laying on the ground in front of the truck with the headlights shining on him, still breathing. The men were just looking at him. All I could hear was the snow blower. My husband was oblivious to what had happened. I screamed for my sons to "Go get Dad!" They did and he came running.

The odd thing was that there wasn't any blood or cuts. Marc scooped him up, put him in the truck and ran him to the animal hospital. I was left with three hysterical children. As I tried to calm them down  I was very nervous because I wasn't sure if Sparky would live. Within an hour Marc was home. he said the vets were still examining Sparky and were not sure what the outcome would be. In shock from the entire event, I fed my husband and then went to the hospital and had my fourth child.

To be continued....

Careful. The next installment contains the gruesome part.