Spam, My Pardner
Spam came wandering up one very hot humid evening. This was when I was living over the little grocery store at 19th and Coleman. It was always a little cooler sitting in the shade of the old mulberry tree by the back door. There was a picnic table and chairs that you could move around and keep in the shade as the sun was getting lower in the evenings. I had seen him around the neighborhood since he was just a young dog and no one seemed to own him. He had ticks and fleas and I know he must have had heart worms too. He just moved up and laid down on his stomach watching me eat my Spam sandwich I was having for supper with those big, alert brown eyes. He was very lean. I guess when you live off what you find on the street, you stay pretty slim. He looked hungry and I'm not too fond of Spam, but it was two days till payday and apprentice machinists aren't the most affluent of folks so I gave him half of it and patted him on the head. We sat there looking at one another like we were wondering what the next move would be and I said, "want some water?" He got up and bounced over to the hydrant on the side of the building, wagging his tail and smelling of the faucet. I thought to myself, "what is this deal with the faucet," so I got up and turned it on for him. He slurped and drank till he was full then went and laid down watching me again. The paper truck came by and threw my papers off so I could start rolling them for the next morning. I threw them between 4 am and 5:30 am then I went to work at the machine shop by 7:00.
I got up the next morning and started out the door, but he was lying there and I couldn't open the screen till he got up. He was wagging his tail as I threw the paper bags over the back of my motorcycle and filled them with the papers. I only had a hundred or so papers to throw, but he started following me, running along and slightly behind me. I guess he ran two or three miles before we got back to the apartment. I went in and started frying up bacon and eggs, making toast and some malt-o-meal. Glancing at the screen door, there he was, lying there looking at me with those bright brown eyes. I threw the rest of the bacon in the pan, cracked four more eggs and added some water to the malt-o-meal. We shared breakfast that morning and I went to work. That evening when I got home he was there waiting for me, standing by the faucet, wagging his tail, so I gave him a drink. I thought maybe I should put a bowl out for him to have water whenever he wanted it, so I did. He promptly hiked his leg and marked his territory on it. So much for water bowls.
Friday finally came and payday. I got home to get cleaned up so I could go to the grocery store for my weeks shopping. As I was going through the store he was outside looking through the door at me. The beer section was close to the front door and when I went to get my two six-pack treat for the week I noticed him watching me. Well I just got one six-pack and a 20-pound bag of dog food. I knew I was a little over budget but, what the hell. He didn't "cotton to" the dog food very well but he ate it reluctantly when I wouldn't share from the table. He would never drink from a bowl; he would only drink from the faucet or a street puddle – weird, I thought.
He had been hanging around a few months and I had afforded some bug powder and shampoo to clean him up and was paying the vet two dollars a week installments for giving him all his shots and killing the heartworms. He cleaned up real well, put on some weight and his coat was slicked up nice. He looked like he was a shepherd cross of some kind with a medium length coat and a nice ruff around his neck. I never heard him bark, he would occasionally growl but I never saw what he was growling at. He would never stay inside except on very cold nights he would lay by the door with his head down like he was waiting to either get out or for someone to come in. I had a little rug he would lay on.
We enjoyed trips to the beach, he loved to catch sticks or anything you threw but would never let you have it back unless you caught him and took it back. He could raid a picnic lunch so fast the people didn't know what happened. When I went fishing at night under the lights to catch trout and reds no one could leave a fish on the pier or he would bring it and put it with mine, then guard them against anyone trying to get theirs back unless I gave it to them. We got to be quite an item out on Bob Hall pier.
Wednesdays were paper account collection night and I would always walk because it was too much trouble to start and stop the car or motorcycle a hundred times. Spam followed me and would wait on the side walk by the street while I went up to
the houses to collect the money. One night a man was paying me when his big mean dog pushed the screen open and lunged at me knocking me down from the porch and all I could see and hear were teeth slashing and the most horrible of dog fighting noises you could imagine. I don't know what happened but, by the time the man and I knew it Spam had the other dog on the ground and was standing menacing over him with his teeth bared, daring him to try and get up or move. The man said Spam was on his dog before I had hardly hit the ground, taking the fight away from me. That was a close call and I really appreciated Spam after that. He then started watching every thing and everyone that got close to me.
Some months later, I remember it was hot weather and I was just getting home from collecting the paper's money. I noticed two guys standing by the grocery store like they were going to cross the street. As I went past them, one of them said something to me. I stopped and turned. Spam had already gone around the corner, I guess, to the water faucet to wait for a drink. One of the guys pulled a knife on me and demanded the money sack so I broke and ran, trying to get upstairs to my gun. When I rounded the corner with the guy right on me, there was Spam, just standing there. The guy started trying to cut me and I was hitting him with the sack, trying to protect myself. Spam jumped him from the side and took him down, the guy started stabbing him to get him off, but he tore the thief's cheek back to where you could see all his teeth on his jawbone, plus bit him so many times there was so much blood you couldn't see his skin it was so covered with blood. The people in the store had called the police and they got there pretty quick. Spam went and was lying under the mulberry tree watching everything, the ambulance came and took the thief away and I called Spam to come on up to the apartment; he didn't move. I went and looked and he was bleeding from his nose and mouth. I knew he had serious injuries and I rushed up and called the emergency number for the vet. He called me right back and I met him with Spam at his office but he was already dead. I pressed aggravated robbery and assault with a deadly weapon charges against the guys. The one that killed Spam had huge ugly scars all over his face and was blinded in one eye from Spam's attack. He got 25 years; I would have given him death. The other guy got 10 years. I took my vacation time to sit through the trial. Spam, who I named for the sandwich we shared when we first met, is buried under the big mulberry tree. I drove by there the other day and it is still standing after 36 years. The old store is still there, but it is a little bakery now.
Reflections by Mark Crider
©1998