Spenser Lewis “Pooh” Briggs was born the runt of his litter with more freckles than you’d think could fit on such a little pup. By the time I adopted him in May 1993 (when he was 5 months old), he had lost half his left ear from being attacked by an adult dog. We think having 1 ½ ears made him look very distinguished.

What can I tell you about my boy that could possibly convey what we liked to call his “Pooh-essence”? I could tell you that he loved food, mud puddles, ear nouggies, walks, his big sister Clarabelle Jane & his Mama. But mostly food.

I could explain that, for reasons clear only to him, he was afraid of snowmen and ducks. That he once dragged every present under the Christmas tree out the doggie door & unwrapped each in the back yard. That trips through the Dairy Queen Drive Thru made life worth living for the little guy. That he suffered from noxious gas every time his Mama had a date over (he denied it was purposeful).

I could talk about his temperament. I could tell you that he was heard to growl only twice in his entire life, & then only after great provocation. That he was a very good boy who always did what he should. Except when he didn’t. And that was only when he couldn’t help it.

But unless you had the pleasure, as did I for more than 11 years, of burying your face in that soft basset boy fur, of hearing the thump of his back leg against the floor as you rubbed his ample belly, and of hearing that persistent basset bark – the bark that so annoyed me then but for which I would give anything to hear again now – then you can’t possibly know what the world lost in the early morning hours of June 29th, 2004, when Spenser made his brave journey to the bridge.

I know, because I am Spenser’s mother, and mothers know these things. I know, and I’ll never forget. Sweet dreams & Godspeed, my funny face little boy, until we meet again.

-- Laurie Briggs